


An Unsinkable Love

by beardyswrites



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner, Titanic (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, Angst and Tragedy, Arranged Marriage, Artist Newt (Maze Runner), Bisexual Disaster, But not as you know them, Class Differences, Denial of Feelings, Falling In Love, Family Dinners, First Dance, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Glader Slang, Glader cameos, Grievers, Historical References, I'm on a boat, Janson is controlling, Lots of tears, M/M, Minho Ships It, Movie Reference, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protective Minho, Protective Newt, RMS Titanic, Sassy Minho, Teresa is good, Thomas is rich, WICKED | WCKD is Not Good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 22,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25682419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardyswrites/pseuds/beardyswrites
Summary: It is April of 1912. Thomas Edison Greene finds himself onboard the RMS Titanic on her maiden voyage, trapped in a marriage of convenience under the suffocating watch of his father.Enter Newton Isaacs, a struggling third class artist who captures Thomas's heart within moments of their chance meeting. A sweeping love affair ensues, Newt opening Thomas’s eyes to a world he never dreamed possible. Separated by social class and forced to keep his newfound romance secret from his father, Thomas comes to realise he would trade all the money in the world for a future with Newt, for the chance to finally be himself and live as he sees fit.But when the luxury liner collides with an iceberg in the middle of the frigid Atlantic, Newt and Thomas must fight the odds stacked against them in a frightening battle to survive.
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 291
Kudos: 180





	1. Welcome Aboard

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go!! I got this idea my head a few weeks ago after watching Titanic again and honestly I'm so hyped to share this. I've adored the movie the last 12 years and I've always wanted to write a story to express my love for the ship and her history, and I finally got the inspiration to. I hope you all enjoy this <3 will be back soon with the next chapter!!

_10 April 1912_

“Look sharp, Thomas. Sit tall, straight back; no slouching.”

Thomas glanced across the car, but the man in the front passenger seat hadn’t even looked at him. “Yes, father.”

A hand squeezed his. His fiancé and best friend, Teresa Agnes, smiled warmly at him. “It’ll be okay,” she mouthed, and he returned the smile, albeit tightly.

As they pulled up to Southampton dock, the crowds of people began to thicken. Their driver honked the horn. “Clear the way!” he called out the window before quickly closing it.

Thomas glanced at his pocket watch. “It’s nearly midday,” he murmured to Teresa, slipping the timepiece back into the breast pocket of his suit.

Teresa gave a wicked smirk. “I know your father would personally stop the ship to make sure we made it aboard,” she whispered, nodding at the man in the front seat.

“Would probably bribe the captain, too,” Thomas agreed, fighting back a grin. Teresa gave a quiet giggle, her eyes twinkling.

Thankfully, due to the crowd noise outside, his father Janson had not heard a single word uttered between them.

Thomas craned his neck, peering out the window as best he could. So far, there wasn’t much to see. “She’s the world’s largest ship,” he said. “You would think we could see her by now.”

The driver chuckled, tooting the horn again. “You will in a moment, lad.”

“Driver,” Janson said sharply.

A pause. “Very good, sir.”

His heart giving a flutter of anxiety, Thomas squeezed Teresa’s hand once again. He longed to crank open the window, but knew it would bring on a barrage of complaints about the noise. Goodness, it was deafening even from inside the car. He felt as if he were slowly suffocating, both from the chaos outside and the tension within.

A few minutes later, their vehicle came to a stop with the clank of the handbrake. “Mr Greene,” the driver said with a nod to Janson.

Thomas almost couldn’t get out fast enough. “Thank you,” he said to the driver, who gave him a small, earnest smile even as Janson grudgingly tipped him.

Stepping out of the vehicle, Thomas almost fell over, staring up over the crowds of people in awe. “Teresa!” he gasped, offering a hand to help her out of the car.

To put it simply, the RMS Titanic was beautiful. She stretched down the Southampton dock, a black hull as long as four city blocks with pristine white terraces above; sitting atop her majestic figure were four buff-coloured funnels with a black trim, smoke trailing from them.

“What a wonderful ship!” Teresa exclaimed, gazing up at the vessel from beneath a wide-brimmed hat.

“The newspapers say she’s unsinkable,” Thomas recalled.

“It is unsinkable!” Janson proclaimed. “God himself could not sink this ship.”

Thomas fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“I don’t believe any ship is unsinkable, given the right conditions,” Teresa mused.

“Well, the wrong ones,” Thomas added, smiling as he took Teresa’s arm; thank goodness she had the gall to stand up to his father, even in these small moments.

“Let’s agree to disagree,” Janson said.

A short, stocky White Star porter hastened over. “Sir - sir! They’re about to make the last call for luggage. You have to check your baggage through the main terminal -”

“If you could kindly see my valets,” Janson interrupted, gesturing to the two men standing at the rear of the car, unloading the suitcases, “they will assist you.”

The moment he turned away, checking his pocket watch, Thomas slipped the porter a bill for his father’s rudeness. “Thank you, sir,” he muttered.

The porter smiled. “The pleasure’s mine, lad.”

A whistle blew distantly, and Janson snapped to attention. “Thomas, Teresa,” he smiled, “let’s make our way to the boarding gate.”

Adjusting his hat, Thomas took Teresa’s arm, and they set off into the mayhem.

The atmosphere felt similar to the carnivals Thomas had seen - although, never attended - in his youth; he could even hear a band playing from somewhere along the dock. The crowd pressed in from all sides, waving and hollering, the cacophony verging on overwhelming. He was grateful for the barriers that provided them with a clear path to the gangway and up onto the ship; it would have been easy to get lost in the chaos.

In one of the steerage sections they passed, Thomas could see the poorer folk receiving health inspections, their hair getting combed for lice and their teeth examined. There were different entrances down the side of the vessel for the different classes, but Thomas and his party had been directed to yet another one due to their late arrival.

_Fashionably_ late, as Janson would have described it.

He could barely stop himself gawping up at the towering hull in a most undignified manner, the sheer scale of Titanic suddenly becoming clear to him. Thomas gripped the railing to keep himself steady, his other hand holding tight to Teresa, and a moment later they crossed the short stretch of water and stepped foot aboard, the hollers of the crowd quietening almost immediately. He noted a brass sign on the hall, announcing that they were currently on D Deck.

“Welcome to Titanic,” a uniformed officer greeted them at the top of the gangplank, smiling proudly. “Welcome aboard!”

The first thing that hit Thomas was the smell of the fresh paint on the walls, the carpet plush beneath his shoes. He realised that they were truly the first group of passengers to experience Titanic; they had the honour of witnessing the ship in all her glory before she was shared with the rest of the world.

Following the stream of first class passengers, they swept through the hallways and up elegantly carved staircases, peering in at charming and comfortable first class spaces.

As they passed a series of windows showing the boat deck, Thomas hastily made a decision. “I’m going to see the ship off,” he announced. “Teresa, would you care to join me?”

He knew it would be his last breath of freedom before the voyage commenced.

Teresa smiled, her eyes sad as if she knew what he was thinking. “I would be delighted, Tom.”


	2. High Stakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go with Newt's POV!! Enjoy :D

_10 April 1912_

Some played poker as if their lives depended on it. For Newton Isaacs, that had never been the case; it had always been a casual bit of gambling, one he hoped he could scrounge a few pounds out of.

Until now.

One of the bartenders they had become acquainted with, Alby, watched closely as he cleaned glasses behind the counter.

_“You could lose what little money you do have!” Alby chided._

_“This could be the fresh start I’ve been waiting for! I can work my way across the country to San Fran.”_

_“Your aunt may not even be there anymore!”_

_“She’s the only family I’ve got left; I have to try, mate. What have I got to lose?”_

Sighing, his brow set in a deep frown, Newt placed another card down on the table. Beside him, Minho’s face gave nothing away.

His eyes darted to the paper tickets resting before them, embellished with the White Star emblem. On the far side of the dock, the ship sat patiently, waiting.

One of their opponents cleared his throat. “Time’s up,” he growled. “Show your cards.”

The sets went down, all folds. Newt all but threw his cards down, disappointment carving its way through his chest.

“Holy shuck,” Minho muttered, staring at the hands splayed across the table.

Newt shook his head, grimacing. Guilt churned his stomach; after all, joining the gamble had been his idea. “I’m sorry, Min. We tried -”

He jumped as Minho suddenly slammed his cards down. “FULL HOUSE, SHUCKFACES!” he crowed.

“W-What?” Newt repeated weakly, leaning over the table as every face in the pub turned to look at them.

There it was, the combination he had been hoping for but hadn’t been lucky enough to receive; _Minho_ , however -

“Bloody hell, Minho, you did it!” Newt yelled, fiercely embracing him.

“We’re going to America!” Minho cheered. “We’ll be millionaires, baby!”

“Good game,” one of the other players muttered, reluctantly reaching out to shake Minho’s hand.

“Good game?!” his friend roared. “You lost us our tickets to New York!”

The first punch was thrown, and a moment later a full-scale brawn had broken out. Mixed with the lone musician fiddling away a lively tune in the corner, it was a comical sight, Minho doubling over laughing.

“Lads, lads!” the pub owner called, emerging from a side door.

Alby hauled Newt into a rough, warm embrace, clapping him on the back. “Good luck, man,” he grinned. “Don’t forget to send me a letter.”

“Sealed with a kiss,” Newt promised, laughing.

Alby ruffled his hair. “Go on, get out of here.” He glanced over at Minho, clasping his forearm. “Keep him out of mischief, yeah?”

“This shank gets into trouble without my help,” Minho grinned. Newt punched his arm.

A whistle blew outside, followed by the thundering bellow of Titanic’s horn.

Alby whirled around, gaping at the timepiece on the wall. “Five minutes!” he exclaimed.

Minho and Newt turned to stare at the clock in horror, but only for a moment.

“Come on, let’s go!” Minho shouted, scooping the won poker money into his duffel bag, a couple of shillings falling to the floor.

“Move it, Min!” Newt said, grabbing the rucksack holding his life’s possessions as Minho threw his own bag over his shoulders. “Go, go, go! Keep the change!” he yelled over his shoulder at Alby, snatching up the slips of paper.

They charged out of the pub, careening across the Southampton dock, heartbeats pounding in time with their footsteps.

“A bed and food and baths!” Minho crowed. “No more sleeping under bridges for a week!”

An elated laugh burst from Newt’s mouth, his torso heaving. He still couldn’t believe their luck. He clenched his fist tighter, holding on to their tickets for dear life.

They ducked and dived around vehicles and horse-drawn carriages -

“Bloody rich people,” Newt laughed over his shoulder to Minho.

\- and skirted around the throngs of onlookers, many of whom barely paid them a glance, their eyes focused entirely on the beautiful ship in front of them.

“Excuse me, sir!” Newt shouted, ducking as they sprinted in front of a man with a camera.

“How long does this shucking thing go on for?!” Minho complained, despite the grin in his voice.

He was right; no matter how fast or far they ran, the impenetrable black wall stretched along the dock beside them.

“There!” Newt yelled, pointing.

They hastened towards one of the gangplanks, latching on to the tail end of the steerage line disappearing into the depths of the ship. The officer at the door gave their tickets a cursory glance, smiled, and stepped aside to let them pass.

Moments later, the thick hull door slammed shut behind them, sealing them off from the rest of the world.

Newt laughed. “Bloody hell, that was close -”

The ship’s horn bellowed distantly.

“Up on deck!” Minho shouted, shoving at Newt excitedly. “Come on, lizard!”

They hurtled up staircase after staircase, following the little signs on the walls, higher and higher until they emerged into the steerage common area and out onto the deck at the stern of the ship.

Sprinting forward, Newt threw his weight against the railing, Minho on his heels as they jostled for space against the barrier. “GOODBYE!” he hollered, his blond hair whipping about his face in the wind.

“Later, shanks!” Minho crowed, waving madly at the crowd.

The ship’s horn gave another thunderous blast, the deck shaking as the engines roared to life within the depths of Titanic. All along the port side, passengers crammed against the railings and balconies, cheering and laughing and waving, some blowing kisses to those below. Even the more dignified standing on the upper decks could clearly not retain their composure, all of them joining in, the excitement contagious.

As they pulled away from the dock with the aide of several comically small tug boats, Newt’s heart roared within his chest; he threw an arm around Minho, grinning and shouting for all the world to hear. It was a moment he wanted to capture forever.

“We gonna see New York, baby!” Minho yelled, ruffling Newt’s hair. “France, Ireland, and then the United shucking States of America!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this next chapter!! Personally, I LOVE that bit at the end with the ship leaving, it fills me with so much joy to read, simply imagining it!!
> 
> I know it’s similar to Jack’s in the movie, but it was the best way to show the different mindsets of these characters. Where Thomas sees anxiety and oppression, Newt sees joy and opportunity. I needed to establish that right at the start, and a normal boarding scene with Newt and Minho simply was not working, and this kind of thing you can't force when trying to write it. Also, I kept hearing Minho’s shouting, and once those pieces of dialogue were written that was it for me!! (plus, little Alby cameo!)
> 
> I promise, there are so many original scenes coming up that I believe you are all going to love!!
> 
> Side note: I was imagining the scene from Pirates of the Caribbean in Tortuga once that punch is thrown and a fight breaks out. Anyway, the music from that scene PERFECTLY matches this one!! All the way from the first punch to where the door slams shut behind them on the ship. So yes, I can add that song to the offical soundtrack of this fic.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and/or kudos, let me know what you're enjoying so far!! <3 :D


	3. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go!! :D thank you so much for your comments the last couple of days, it's really kept me motivated <3 enjoy!!

_11 April 1912_

The ship rumbled faintly around them, a hum of life that Thomas found oddly comforting as he and Teresa made their way to their respective staterooms after breakfast.

To alleviate potential gossip, Teresa was staying in the stateroom directly next to theirs, but was free to come and go from the parlour rooms as she pleased. Janson had booked the ship’s most luxurious suites for himself and Thomas, rooms B-52, 54 and 56, and they didn’t disappoint.

The day before, maids and servants had swarmed the space, wheeling suitcases in and unpacking their trunks. Without the chaos of the staff, Thomas could now fully appreciate the space. The room was littered with plush chairs and love seats, and there was a brass fireplace inlaid in the wall on his right for the undoubtedly cold Atlantic nights ahead. Off to the left, a corridor led into two adjacent bedrooms for himself and Janson; magnificent four-poster beds awaited them each night.

Pulling on the brass handle and opening the door, Thomas stepped out onto their private fifteen-foot deck, feeling less claustrophobic; even the various array of potted ferns helped to calm him. Crossing the space, he tugged down a window, inhaling the fresh air with relief as he peered out. They had left the harbour of Cherbourg, France, the previous evening; in a few hours, they were scheduled to arrive in Queenstown, Ireland - their last stop before the open ocean.

From there, America loomed.

“Nice to be moving, isn’t it?”

Thomas turned around to find Teresa standing in the doorway, smiling at him. The corners of his mouth tugging upward, he reached out. “Couldn’t stay away, milady?”

“Unfortunately,” she teased, taking his hand and moving to stand beside him.

They stood in silence a few moments longer.

“You’re not alone, Thomas,” Teresa said quietly. “We’re in this together, you hear me? We will figure this out.”

Thomas was startled by the determination and sincerity in her expression; he knew she couldn’t say more for fear of being overheard by the passing staff, but he heard her hidden words. Squeezing her hand, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Yes, Teresa,” he murmured gratefully. “I hear you.”

o-o-o-o-o

By early afternoon, Titanic was steaming west into the ocean, Ireland slipping further into the distance behind them. Thomas found himself roped into yet another business engagement over a late lunch, Janson wanting him to meet potential investors.

Thomas’s father was the owner of a wealthy security business that unfortunately held the initials of WCKD, something Thomas found strangely ironic. He had connections with scores of rich gentlemen across Europe and America, and had already been welcomed into many people’s inner circles.

Outwardly, Thomas was proud of his father’s achievements. He was there for every public announcement and occasional photo shoot, won over many as he promised a bright future for the company in his hands after Janson’s retirement, and helped his father to secure investments.

Inwardly, Thomas despised it all. Whilst he took on a genuine approach to business, his father used every trick in the book to obtain that which he wanted, whispering suggestions in people’s ears and passing money beneath the table to buy loyalty.

Loyalty that, Thomas knew, should be earned.

Once he was married, he hoped to divorce himself from the company as best as he could, but Janson had his talons in deep.

Setting down his cutlery, Thomas rose to his feet. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, nodding politely at his company before making for the doors.

The sea air out on the balcony filled his lungs, seeping into every crevice of his being and dampening the unease churning his stomach.

No matter where he looked, there was nothing to see but the open ocean stretching out towards the sky on all sides. Inhaling deeply, he leaned against the railing; it was strangely liberating, even if only for a moment.

His gaze drifted over the rear of the ship, where many of the steerage passengers were out enjoying the sunshine. Adults chatted and laughed, children ran about tossing balls to one another; their carefree manner made something in Thomas’s heart ache as he tugged at his stifling shirt collar.

Another pair of eyes met his own.

A young man with tousled blond hair stared up at him, a portfolio of sorts balanced on his knees and a pencil in his grasp. He lifted his hand, giving a wave.

Thomas anxiously glanced about, but no, it was definitely to catch _his_ attention. Curiosity getting the better of him, he hesitantly lifted a hand to return the gesture; the blond boy grinned back at him.

Thomas blinked. He didn’t know what possessed him, but he was shockingly tempted to go and introduce himself, to sit and converse with the young man. The smile alone intrigued him, the connection stretching across the decks.

It wasn’t as if he had many friends his own age to begin with.

The blond’s face suddenly lit up. He turned a page in his folder, scribbled something down, and then folded the paper in neat, careful lines until it resembled a paper airplane.

He threw it in Thomas’s direction.

Within moments, it was picked up by a gust of wind. It arced wildly, disappearing out into the ocean.

They both stared after it for a long few moments. Thomas bit down on his lip to fight back a smile, while the blond boy started laughing, shaking his head and shrugging. Thomas felt his own shoulders begin to shake, a grin stretching across his face -

He jumped as a hand landed firmly on his arm, turning around with a gasp.

“Your presence is not only required but _expected_ ,” Janson said icily, his frightening eyes only inches from Thomas’s own. “You are drawing attention to us. Come along, now.”

Thomas glanced longingly at the boy in steerage, but only for a moment. “Yes, Father.”

o-o-o-o-o

Dinner that night was the same affair it had been every other night thus far.

He and Teresa had made quite the impression, the very image of the future of the upper classes. All evening, it had been the same words, over and over. He could hear the whispered gossip about how they were such a wonderful young couple, how they complemented each other so well; how Teresa was so fortunate to have found such an eligible bachelor as she swept past them on his arm.

Thomas thought that statement should have been the other way around.

Their plates eagerly cleared by the waiters swarming the room, Janson and the other gentlemen departed for brandies and cigars, leaving the dining space predominately female. Thomas decided to stay with Teresa a little longer, the company more sociable and infinitely more agreeable.

Or so he thought.

“Thomas’s father has kindly gifted us a manor that has been in the Greene family for generations,” Teresa was telling the lady sitting beside her. “I’m overwhelmed by his kindness, I must say. There are plenty of rooms, and a beautiful garden and lawn.”

Thomas couldn’t help but admire her. Teresa answered the questions dutifully and charmingly, sprinkling in a little laughter as her eyes twinkled; she was an absolute natural.

“Oh, that’ll be perfect for when the little ones come along -”

A wave of cold sweat swept over Thomas.

“Tom?” Teresa whispered concernedly, giving his arm a shake.

He jolted out of his daze, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. “I need some air,” he gasped, rising to his feet.

“Thomas, are you okay?” Teresa asked, her eyes darting about; not wanting to make a scene - not wanting word to get back to Thomas’s father.

The very thought nauseated him.

“I’ll be alright,” he assured her, throwing her a shaky smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I think I had too much to drink.”

As he rushed away, as fast as he could without demanding attention, he could hear the woman behind him chuckling that her husband had also found the liquor rather strong.

The problem was, Thomas had hardly touched his glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> So, Newt made his first proper appearance in Thomas’s life!! :D A little bit of a cliff, I will continue the rest in the next chapter because otherwise it was getting a little long! Plus the scene on the deck with the first glance just felt …. Not unfinished, but like there was something else to add to it. Thomas is feeling really trapped by his life, and it’s a question of what’s going to make him tip over the edge …  
> (Also, that is why I’ve called the chapter this instead of a more romantic “First Glance” or something of the like. Thomas does not yet know how important Newt is about to become to him, and is more focused on everything that is happening in his own life.)
> 
> On a side note, I love writing Teresa for this fic! It's so much fun, she's awesome and has so many good moments coming up. She's very supportive of Thomas and cares a great deal about him.
> 
> As always, feel free to leave comments and or kudos if you’re enjoying the story!! (I know a few of you are here from instagram, good to see you!!) Have a good week, stay safe <3


	4. Churning Up a Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!! Hope you all enjoy <3 thank you so much for the support lately!  
> ((please note there's a bit of an anxiety/panic attack in this one. just in case <3))

He burst out onto the deck, his lungs caving, the cold night air burning his throat. Whirling around, he staggered off down the promenade, his feet carrying him in a direction uncertain even to himself. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t _think_.

He was on the most elegant ship in the whole world, and he suddenly couldn’t appreciate it. He felt as if he were going back to America in chains. His future loomed - a future he barely cared for or wanted - and his father breathing down his neck at every turn was wearing his tolerance thin, his anxiety increasing tenfold with every passing day.

There was no way to escape the iron grasp of his father. The man had always lurked in the shadows of Thomas’s accomplishments, had always stayed just out of sight as Thomas tried to make his way in the world, but was nevertheless there. Intimidating and ruthless, Janson was not a man to be crossed, and certainly not by his own son. Even in marriage, Thomas would be expected to uphold the family honour, to raise charities in their name and produce heirs like the world was about to end.

It was a kind of claustrophobia that clawed at him day and night, inescapable and suffocating.

Thomas barely realised he was crying until he felt the hot droplets on his hands. He swallowed thickly, but still the tears came, blinding his vision, his torso wracking with sudden, quiet sobs.

Heavens above, the _marriage_.

It was a marriage of convenience. He harboured no romantic feelings for his best friend, and he knew Teresa felt the same. They had grown up together, and their engagement had all but been promised since their childhood. He knew he was lucky they were so close, but all the same, he wanted to be _loved_. To feel the soft caress of his partner between satin sheets as the sun rose, to be embraced and kissed and _wanted_.

Alas, both their parents saw the marriage as an investment, of uniting two well standing families. Neither he nor Teresa had had any say in the matter, but Thomas supposed it was better than marrying a complete stranger.

But he still felt so _trapped_. He had a heart that was desperate to belong to someone, truly and deeply and unconditionally.

He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand it at all. He could see his whole life as if he had already lived it, an endless stream of parties, of engagements and evenings spent with other gentlemen to discuss the politics of the world; it was whirling a beautiful girl around a dance floor in his arms, wishing she was one his soul was truly bared to.

It was all too much. It was far, _far_ too much.

He was barely aware of his movements until his body hit the railing at the rear of the ship, the wake of the Titanic disappearing into the dark ocean far below him. He gripped the bars, the metal digging into his palms. Oh, lord, he could feel himself spiraling. His chest was so tight he couldn’t breathe; he was going to pass out. His vision swam, tempting him to throw himself into the depths of the ocean; anything to escape the torment of his thoughts, a torrent of words ripping him to shreds from the inside out.

“Hey, you alright there, mate?”

Thomas spun around, a choked gasp tearing from his mouth. It was the young man from steerage he had seen on the lower decks.

Suddenly, his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the deck on all fours, gasping for air. With the rush of footsteps, the stranger ran to his side, gripping his shoulders.

“Hey. Hey, look at me, shank.”

Choking, Thomas wrenched his head up, staring into the dark, kind eyes of the stranger before him, still barely able to see through his tears.

“What’s your name, love?”

That. That he could do. “Thomas Edison Greene the Second.”

“Bloody hell, that’s a mouthful. Mind if I call you Tommy?”

The nickname immediately made him feel warm. Even Teresa only called him Tom. “Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he rasped.

The other boy squeezed his shoulders, grounding him. “Good that. My name’s Newton Isaacs, but you can call me Newt.”

A hysterical laugh burst from his mouth, his panic thrown for one blessed moment. “Newt?” Thomas repeated weakly.

“My idiot friend gave me the nickname and it stuck. Now, what’s rocking around in that buggin’ head of yours?”

Thomas gasped again, his vision blurring alarmingly; his heartbeat roared in his ears. “It’s - I can’t breathe - I can’t stop - stop _thinking_ -”

“Shh, shh, alright. Look at me, Tommy. Can you do that?”

Thomas tried frantically to focus on the face swimming in front of him.

“There you are, mate. Now, tell me something; give me three things you’re touching and what they feel like.”

Thomas tried to focus through the chaos of his mind. “Uh. Three things. Um.” He closed his eyes for a moment, fiercely ignoring the tears slipping down his cheeks. “The deck. It’s - it’s smooth. Polished.”

“Good, good. I don’t envy the poor bugger who had that job. What else?”

“My - uh - suit.”

“I’d sure hope you could feel your clothes. Bloody hell, that looks expensive. Silk, I bet?”

“I dunno,” Thomas mumbled. He exhaled shakily. “Itches a little.”

His thoughts turned back to the dinner; his father; the engagement. He began to shake again; another sob wracked his torso. “No, oh, no,” he cried, begged.

“Focus on me, Tommy!” Newt grabbed his face, wrenching it upwards so Thomas was looking at him. “One more thing. Come on, you can do it.”

Thomas’s head spun. “Your hands!” he blurted out.

His vision sharpened as embarrassment surged through him, sweat prickling his body like needles.

“What about them?” Newt asked quietly.

Thomas swallowed thickly. “Cold. Soft.”

“Glad to hear it, mate.” Had Newt hesitated? He couldn’t be sure. “Now, tell me two things you can hear.”

Thomas closed his eyes again, focusing as best as he could. His head was beginning to ache. “The - the ocean.”

Newt chuckled. “Blimey, yeah, those propellors are churning up a storm down there; listen to those waves!”

He did. It was like thunder, the powerful roar of a beast; of a _titan_.

“And one more,” Newt pressed gently. “You’re doing great, Tommy.”

There was nothing else. “Your voice,” Thomas whispered.

“Good that. And somehow you’re still listening to it,” Newt wondered, the smile clear in his words. “I mean, Minho says I can sometimes talk the hind legs off a donkey, but -”

Thomas choked out a laugh through his tears, his chest still unbearably tight; he shakily unclenched one of his fists, pressing it against his torso, against the invisible knot of anxiety he could feel.

His hands still clamped on either side of Thomas’s face, Newt seemed to understand immediately. “Breathe with me, okay? In, in, in, hold -”

Thomas did as asked, hiccups stalling his progress for a few moments; there was a long pause.

“And out,” Newt instructed him. “You’re doing great. Stay with me. Again.”

They repeated the cycle again and again, in and out, in and out, until finally Thomas felt the world fall calm around him. They sat quietly for a long few minutes, listening to the sound of the ocean below, the stars shining over their heads.

Slowly, Newt’s hands retreated from his face; the loss of warmth was immediate. “How you feeling now, Thomas? Is that better?”

Thomas nodded shakily. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I - thank you.”

“Any time, Tommy.”

Thomas lifted his head, finally comprehending just how close the two of them were sitting. 

His lips parted. Newt’s features held no judgement nor pity of any kind, rather a heart-shattering kindness, gentle and understanding.

_And something else._

Newt’s eyes entranced him, calling him, reeling him in. Thomas was suddenly frightened.

“I have to go,” he rasped, staggering to his feet and setting off in the direction of his staterooms.

He didn’t dare look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> So yes, here is the full explanation/backstory for Thomas's side of things - and Newt arrives to save the day! Despite seeing each other earlier, this is the starting point that sets everything going, and it had to start with a true connection between them.
> 
> The techniques Newt uses here were taught to me by my own doctor as a way to help ground and reorientate myself in the middle of an anxiety/panic attack, for which I am eternally grateful for - but now at least I can imagine it's Newt saying it to me.  
> This was a very special chapter for me to write, but it was also very hard. This is based off my own ugly and painful experiences, and it was very difficult for me to write it in despite knowing it was a scene I wanted to happen. I write characters having these sorts of moments because I guess it's my way of telling myself - and anyone else in a similar headspace - that IT WILL BE OKAY, and that I deserve a space in this world when it all gets too much.
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave your thoughts down in the comments, and I really hope you liked this one and/or it helped in some way <3 <3 have a good week, stay safe!


	5. A Quiet Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with the next bit of the story!! Enjoy! <3

_12 April 1912_

Lying amid twisted sheets the next morning, Thomas knew he had a debt to repay.

It was a lesson his father had instilled in him during his youth. You settled your debts as quickly as you could; you didn’t leave them, lest someone try to take advantage when you weren’t in a position of being able to repay said debt.

But it was more than that.

Thomas had suffered a sleepless night. He truly didn’t know what would have happened if Newt hadn’t arrived when he did. Although they had seen one another across the decks, something about that moment had cemented an indescribable bond between them.

He felt his heart leap at the thought of seeing Newt again. His hand shifted over his chest, feeling the flutter of the muscle within. How long had it been since he had been truly excited to spend time with another? Not even Teresa had that effect on him; she was simply a warm, comfortable presence in his life.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Tom?”

He looked up, craning his neck. “Come in, Tess.”

It was a name he reserved for their quietest moments. The door noiselessly opened, and Teresa shut it behind her a moment later. This early in the morning, he doubted there was anyone around to see her enter his suite; not that he would dare try anything with his father asleep in the next room.

“How are you this morning?” Teresa asked softly, perching on the edge of his bed. Her brow pinching, she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “You’re a little pale, Tom.”

Sighing, Thomas sat up so he could look her in the eyes, the sheets pooling around his waist. “I’m sorry for last night,” he told her, meaning every word. “I ...” He hesitated.

Teresa squeezed his hand. “It was a little overwhelming, wasn’t it?”

Swallowing thickly, Thomas nodded, relief washing through him that she understood. He stopped himself quickly; it was Teresa, of _course_ she understood. “Yeah. Yeah, it was a bit.”

His eyes drifted over her soft green dress, overlaid in white lace; one of his engagement gifts to her. “You look lovely,” Thomas told her, shifting the conversation as subtly as he could. “Truly.”

Teresa smiled. “Thank you, Tom.” She smoothed out a stretch of the silk material. “Join me for breakfast?” she asked.

Ah, so two could play at that game. He nodded. “Not for long, though,” he said. “I’m going to take a walk for a while. Get some sea air.”

Her eyes still soft with concern, Teresa squeezed his hand again. “Look after yourself, okay?” she said. “I’ll be in the Parisian Cafe later on if you decide you want some company then, too.”

What had he ever done to deserve her? Smiling, Thomas leaned forward and pecked her chastely on the cheek. “Thank you, Teresa.”

She gave him a warm smile. “Any time.”

o-o-o-o-o

His stomach full due to a hearty breakfast, Thomas continued his way along the deck.

Passing several other passengers, he tugged at his collar self-consciously, a nervous sweat prickling his torso. He wore his most inconspicuous clothes, barely passable for first class and hopefully unnoticeable in steerage; standing out was the last thing on his list of preferences.

He reached the balconies overlooking the rear of the ship, peering down at the steerage passengers milling about. Newt wasn’t out on deck, and so Thomas’s next best guess was the third class common area.

The sight of the gate made him pause.

The moment he pushed it aside and stepped beyond, he was throwing away every societal rule Janson had drilled into him from a young age. That the poor could not be interacted with; that they were filthy, disease-ridden, untrustworthy.

Things Newt had proven wrong within moments of their first meeting. That _had_ to mean something.

Steeling his nerves, Thomas opened the gate and slipped past.

Several sets of stairs later, he descended into the steerage common area. It was large and open, teeming with passengers sitting about on wooden benches talking and laughing.

Thomas felt a tug in his chest again at that glimpse of _freedom_.

His eyes swept the space, and soon came to rest on the stranger who had haunted his thoughts all night.

There, his blond hair alight like an angel’s, was Newt, sitting on the far side of the room amongst a crowd of boys his age; _Thomas’s_ age. Swallowing anxiously, he moved in their direction ... and couldn’t help overhearing their conversation.

“He was making heart eyes at this first class shank on the upper decks -”

“You’re as likely to have angels flying out of your shuck ass as get next to the likes of him,” someone laughed.

Thomas’s face flushed; he ducked his head.

“Bugger off, Gal,” Newt grinned. “You should’ve seen the smile when I threw the note at him -”

“A note!” another person groaned. “You sap!”

“It was nothing, Win. It literally just said _hi_ -”

The Asian boy sitting beside Newt took one look at Thomas and his eyes suddenly lit up. “Salamander, look!” he hissed, punching Newt’s shoulder.

“Ow! What -?!”

Newt looked up, and time slowed. Thomas gulped, feeling as if the world were falling quiet around him, the chatter inaudible to his ears. His feet carried him on, miraculously without a stumble, until he came to a stop in front of Newt.

The silence stretched. “Uh, Newt, right?” Thomas began nervously, needing to start the conversation _somewhere_.

Newt smiled warmly. “That’s me,” he said. “What can I do for ya, Tommy?”

_Just say thank you; just say thank you -_

“Uh, can I - can I speak with you?” Thomas suddenly blurted out. “In private?”

_Oh, goodness. That was not the plan that was not the plan -_

Surprise flashed across Newt’s face, but he quickly hid it. “Alright, mate. It’s a bit windy out on deck, though.”

Thomas took the hint; they wouldn’t be overheard. He smiled. “I’m sure we’ll manage,” he answered.

He turned and made for the staircase, disappearing up and out into the sunshine as Newt gathered his things. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this latest part!! I know it's a little shorter, but the full chapter with them walking on deck and talking was starting to get long (THEY HAVE LOTS TO TALK ABOUT OKAY) so I decided to keep that separate. You will get to read it soon enough, though!! :D
> 
> I really like this one, and I hope you did too!! Teresa is going to be very helpful pushing this plot forward so Thomas and Newt can get together … ;)  
> For real though, there’s a … sense of peace to that first scene that I really adore. I always love that quiet in the morning. And especially after the turmoil of the previous night.
> 
> AND GLADER CAMEOS GALORE!!! It was so much fun adding all these shanks in. I don’t introduce them all yet (I promise you’ll meet them all soon!) but you can kinda guess who they all are!
> 
> On a side note, a little detail I wanted to point out. So in the 1997 movie, Jack and Rose didn’t meet until Friday night (the 12th). However!!! With Newt and Thomas meeting on the THURSDAY night instead, it means they have a whole extra day to hang out and fall in love and!!! What will they get up to??? Stay tuned to find out!
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic so far! :D <3 you help keep me inspired, thank you!! Have an amazing week, stay safe!


	6. Only Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GOOOO!!!

Their stroll took them up to the first class boat deck area. Slipping in amongst the other passengers, they exchanged small talk about how their day was going and how the weather was spectacular, until finally Thomas could bear the tension no longer.

“Thank you,” he blurted out. His face flushed. “For what you did.”

Newt laughed softly. “You don’t need to thank me, Tommy,” he said kindly. “I saw a shank in need and decided to lend a hand.”

Thomas shook his head, embarrassment seeping into his thoughts as he recalled how he had completely and utterly lost control the previous night. “Look, I know what you must be thinking,” he sighed, coming to a stop against the railing. “Poor little rich boy. What could he know about the miseries of life?”

Newt put a gentle hand on his arm, commanding his attention. “No,” he said quietly, earnestly. “No. I was wondering what was going through this ‘poor little rich boy’s’ head to make him look like he wanted to toss himself overboard.”

It was as if Newt had been able to read his thoughts; perhaps he had an inkling of the torment Thomas was experiencing ... and maybe, in some way, he would understand.

“Well,” he began hesitantly, running a hand through his hair anxiously; Newt’s eyes tracked the movement. “It’s just - I -”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Newt soothed. “You don’t have to tell me -”

“No.” Thomas jerked his head. “I feel like I owe you an explanation -”

Newt smiled softly. “You don’t owe me anything -”

“But I _do_ , Newt.” He exhaled shakily, glancing about to make sure the other passengers were an adequate distance from them; he wouldn’t be able to bear the humiliation if word spread. “It’s - it’s my father.”

Thomas winced heavily. _Pathetic,_ a voice in his head snarled. Of all the reasons he could have given -

Newt nodded thoughtfully. “No, that’s fair enough. What about him?”

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose. There was something about Newt’s voice that made him want to tell him _everything_. “It’s not just him.” He exhaled heavily. “I’m to be married.”

Newt’s gaze darted to Thomas’s bare ring finger, something shifting in his eyes; for the first time, he seemed to recall the silver band that had adorned his hand the previous night.

And so, taking a deep breath, Thomas told him. About the suffocating presence of his father, planning his future ahead of him with Thomas simply holding on for dear life; of the constant breathing down his neck; of the pressures to maintain the family name.

It was everything that had crashed down on him the previous night, choking him, debilitating him. Strangely, though, he already felt calmer having Newt at his side, as if he associated him with the feeling of safety.

“Your mother isn’t here?”

Thomas shook his head. “Passed away when I was five. Pneumonia.”

Newt reached out and squeezed his wrist. “I’m sorry, Tommy, truly. I lost my parents a few years ago, so I understand. Wish I didn’t, though.”

Thomas nodded, swallowing thickly. “Thanks, Newt.”

Another moment of quiet passed. Newt shifted, leaning against the railing. “Now, about this bloody circus awaiting you back in America -”

Thomas huffed with laughter, unable to help himself. “That just about describes it,” he admitted. “Hundreds of invitations have been sent out, not just for friends and family but for elite socialites I’ve never even heard of, never mind _met_. Thankfully Teresa’s family are handling a lot of the affairs back in California, but if I have to hear another word about flower arrangements I might just take that voluntary swim in the Atlantic.”

Newt laughed, but it was vaguely strained. Perhaps he was thinking of the previous night. “Teresa?” he pressed.

“My fiancé,” Thomas clarified.

There was a long pause. Newt tilted his head. “You don’t seem that bloody happy about marrying her.”

Thomas sighed heavily. “And therein lies my problem.”

Newt watched him closely; Thomas felt a thrill run through him at the intensity of his gaze. “You don’t love her.”

A statement, not a question.

Thomas shook his head. “She’s my best friend,” he said. “Our families have known one another since we were children. It’s an arranged marriage, I guess; a union of two upper class families,” he monotoned. “We were destined to be together, apparently.”

Newt mulled over that for a moment. “That’s ... a fair weight to carry.”

“And you saw how that turned out,” Thomas said glumly. “Teresa’s amazing, but every time I hear our future together being discussed, I can’t help but feel backed into a corner.” He turned away. “I should be grateful. I _know_ I should be. But I just _can’t_. There’s an entire world out there that I want to see, but I’m chained to the grand scheme my father’s had in place since my birth. I just regret Teresa being dragged into this whole mess, too.”

Newt hummed quietly in acknowledgment, and Thomas suddenly snapped to his senses. Goodness, what was he _doing_? He looked about anxiously, his cheeks flushing in shame. “Forgive me, this is not a suitable topic of conversation,” he garbled. He shook his head jerkily. “I’m being rude -”

Strangely, Newt looked somewhat amused. “Tommy, really, it’s fine -”

“I’m usually a fun date -”

The words were out of his mouth before he had the chance to amend them.

A wicked grin crossed Newt’s face. “We’re on a date now, huh, Tommy?” he laughed, his eyes twinkling.

Thomas stared, slack-jawed. “I - uh - _no_ ,” he stammered, mortified. “I - _sorry_ -”

Newt shook his head, clapping him on the back. “Relax, Thomas,” he said almost fondly, still chuckling. “Admittedly, you could do far worse than yours truly.”

_Teasing. He was just teasing._ Unbidden, Thomas felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Laughter bubbled in his throat, Newt quickly joining in.

When quiet fell again, Newt held up the thin leather folder he had carried all the way from the common area. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

They sat down on one of the lounging deck chairs, their shoulders bumping. Newt handed him the book. “Take a peek,” he said.

There was a shyness to his expression Thomas hadn’t encountered before. Cautiously, he lifted the cover ... and his mouth fell open in awe.

There was everything from rough line art to full sketches of people from all walks of life, in places all over the world. A cafe in Paris, a pub in London, canals in Amsterdam, a waterfall in the wilderness of America. Ordinary folk, immortalised in the work before Thomas’s eyes, going about their daily lives.

“What made you get into art?” he asked.

Newt stretched out on the deck, rolling his shoulders. “I guess I’ve learned to appreciate what I have,” he said. He hesitated. “My life isn’t easy. It’s working from sunrise to sunset to scrounge a few meagre pennies; it’s sometimes days without food, or sleeping under a bridge.” He shook his head. “But there’s beauty in it, too. Couldn’t afford a camera - there was no bloody way - so I taught myself to draw it instead.”

He knew it was all circumstance and chance that had led to their different social standings, but Thomas still couldn’t help feeling guilty. If his own father wanted something, he simply bought it, what with money never being an issue. Thomas realised just how much he had taken it for granted. Newt, however, had seen the opportunity in his situation, and had brought something so beautiful and so mundane to life.

“You’re a natural,” he commented softly, fingers drifting across the careful pencil lines as he looked through the pages.

“Nah, Tommy. Just years of practice.” He gestured around him. “I wanted to capture the little human moments I saw. A father walking with his daughter, a couple dancing in the rain, a pair of hands reaching for one another.”

By the creators, he even _spoke_ like an artist. Thomas’s gaze swept across those same images in the sketchbook. “Why?” he whispered.

Newt reached across him and turned the page again, Thomas’s jaw falling open. “Newt ...” he whispered in awe.

There, immortalised in the same way as all those many strangers, was _him_ , gazing out towards the horizon as he leaned against the ship’s railing.

Newt smiled softly, his eyes never leaving Thomas’s. “Because they gave me hope.”

In that moment, Thomas realised two things.

First, that Newt had the most beautiful warm eyes in the world, like melted chocolate oozing gold as the sunlight hit them.

Second, that he, Thomas Edison Greene, was steadily falling head over heels for Newton Isaacs.

_Shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this latest part!! (The title is the name of a song from A Walk to Remember, and it’s been one of my favourites for YEARS)
> 
> So. HOW WAS THAT??!?! I look forward to seeing your reactions down in the comments ;) for once, Thomas is NOT as oblivious as he could be!! Plus a few bants and flirting.
> 
> I know that Newt as an artist is borderline making him like 1997 Jack Dawson, but in truth I’ve always seen Newt as an artist. It’s something I’ve always pictured him as beyond this au - an image that has been helped by the literal hundreds of fanfics I’ve read over the years!!
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic so far! :D <3 thank you to all who have so far, you truly help keep me inspired!! Have an amazing week everyone!


	7. In the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!! <3

“Teresa, there’s something I have to talk to you about.”

Leaning against the railing, she glanced sideways at Thomas. He had taken her towards the aft end of the promenade, where there were lesser numbers of passengers.

It had not escaped her notice. Teresa reached out, fingers brushing his own. “Tom, are you okay?” she asked quietly.

Thomas swallowed audibly. “I’ve ... I’ve met someone.”

He could almost feel something shatter in the air at his words. They both knew they were tied to the engagement whether they liked it or not, and that any romantic endeavours beyond that commitment were futile; he was lucky Teresa was his best friend.

_But he had to try._

“Oh?” There was a long pause. “Who is she?”

An even longer pause. “ _He_.”

Teresa blinked, confusion momentarily crossing her features. Suddenly, a wide smile spread across her face. “Oh, Thomas!” she gasped, throwing her arms around him. “That is _wonderful_!”

Thomas cleared his throat as she stepped back. “Teresa ...”

“Oh, my goodness.” Something fell in her expression as she grabbed his hands, squeezing tight. “Thomas, are you okay?”

Thomas was silent for a long moment, trying to put his thoughts into words. “I’ve never met anyone like him before,” he confessed. “I didn’t even know I liked ... I liked ...” He glanced anxiously over his shoulder, making sure they were alone, “I liked _boys_.”

His cheeks flushed with shame. He could feel the weight of societal expectations on his shoulders, suffocating him.A part of himself he had kept locked up, hidden away in the deepest, darkest parts of his soul so that no one could see. He had _looked_ at other boys, but nothing had made it clear until Newt had wandered into his life.

“I mean, I barely know him,” Thomas muttered, scrambling for an explanation. “I didn’t even know he _existed_ until two days ago, but it’s - I - he’s like a _magnet_ , Tess. I can’t stay away ... and I’m not sure I want to.”

He couldn’t stop thinking about that morning.

As Thomas had browsed through the sketchbook, Newt had regaled him with tales of adventures he could hardly fathom. Horse riding along the beach in the shadow of the Santa Monica Pier; earning his keep on the Glade farm in the middle of a mountainous nowhere; of cramped trawlers and steamer ships, of spending his days covered in coal or soaked and chilled to the bone but loving every moment of it.

And in turn, Newt had listened to Thomas’s own fantasies, of the places he longed to visit, of the adventures he yearned for, and emboldened them. They would ride roller-coasters and drink cheap beer beneath setting suns, they would star in silent films and sing loudly and terribly to tunes on a jukebox, the world finally Thomas’s own to enjoy.

He wanted to swim in the ocean all summer, and learn to ice skate on frozen rivers come winter. He wanted to live in a bustling city where no one knew his name; he wanted to escape to the countryside with nothing but the night sky and a couple of dogs to keep him company; he wanted to go anywhere and everywhere all at once - and Newt _understood_.

He was overcome with longing for this boy he barely knew; this steerage boy who listened to Thomas’s dreams and laid them out in the stars with him, who suddenly brought joy and hope and _colour_ to an otherwise black and white world.

Newt went where his inner compass desired, and it was a kind of freedom that enthralled Thomas. In many ways, he was awed by Newt’s approach to life, and perhaps it was this same desire, this same thrill, that found him standing at the railing that afternoon.

Teresa gazed at him with a heartbreakingly kind expression. “Tom, listen to me ... this is the ship of dreams.” She gave him a soft smile. “Believe in the magic of it, even for just a few days.”

_Dreams. Magic._ The mere thought of the words brought a slight smile to his mouth. Even if for only a couple of days, he could pretend; he could be the person he truly wanted to be. America was going to be a fresh start for many of the passengers aboard the vessel; why not start now? Why not _him_?

“What about you?” Thomas asked quietly.

Teresa gave a small, indifferent shrug. “We’ll keep up the pretence,” she told him, “and if you decide you still want to be with him by the time we get off this ship, then we’ll figure something out.” Squeezing his hands, she smiled warmly, her eyes shining. “You _deserve_ to be happy.”

Thomas pressed a kiss to her cheek in gratitude. “As do you.”

o-o-o-o-o

Throughout his childhood, Thomas had mastered the art of avoiding his father, to the point he often studied his schedule so that the only time they were in the same room together was at the compulsory meal times.

However, he discovered that this was much harder to orchestrate on a ship.

“Where have you been?” Janson pressed, glaring. “You are supposed to be making a favourable impression, but every time I turn around you’ve disappeared.”

Halfway through the door, Thomas found himself staring into the chilling eyes of his father, who was mid-stride towards him, pocket watch in hand. He wondered frantically if he had missed a meeting he had been involuntarily signed up for. Again.

Clearing his throat, Thomas closed the door behind him. “My apologies, Father.”

“Just because we are onboard this ship does not excuse you for neglecting your duties. I want an explanation.”

Thomas squared his shoulders. “I was with Teresa,” he said truthfully.

“Not this morning, you weren’t,” Janson said icily. “Do not make me ask again.”

“But -”

“ _Thomas_ -”

“I made a friend,” Thomas blurted out. His insides turned to ice; he should not have said that, should not have made his father even slightly aware of Newt’s existence.

Janson narrowed his eyes. “Did you, now?”

There was no going back. “His name is Newton. Of the Isaacs family?” Thomas added, thanking his lucky stars that Newt had a somewhat convincing upper class name.

The silence stretched. Janson finally pursed his lips.

Thomas could hardly breathe; he hadn’t even brought Janson’s ego into consideration, his unwillingness to admit that Thomas knew a family he didn’t.

Unless ... unless Janson thought he was lying.

“Are his parents with him?” Janson asked suddenly.

Thomas could feel himself floundering. “Uh - uh, no.”

“A rich bachelor your age, unescorted?” Janson turned to look at him, a small smirk crossing his features. “That won’t do. Invite him to join us for dinner tomorrow night.”

Thomas swallowed tightly, trying not to panic. “Of course.”

He could sense a dirty trick at the hands of his father, trying to manipulate him into proving he wasn’t telling lies to escape Teresa’s company.

“It’s always good to have friends in high places,” Janson told him, “when favours might be necessary. Remember that, Thomas.”

A reminder of the standards his father held, of the company Thomas was expected to keep should he have any. Inwardly, he seethed even as his stomach churned with anxiety.

Finally, he ducked his head in assent. “Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this latest part!! Not much Newtmas here but the next couple of chapter should be ALL Newt and Thomas :D
> 
> Newt is a little bit of an onion. We’re slowly peeling back the layers of his story and getting to know more about him. (You will eventually find out why he ended up by himself, I promise!)
> 
> I’m so happy to have another scene with Teresa. She’s the kind of supportive friend I think we all need in our lives.
> 
> Janson is so much fun to write, more than I expected for this fic. I'm really enjoying the chance to make him a villain in the everyday sense, rather than this mastermind of an evil genius he kinda is in the movies!  
> AND AHA!!! A dinner invitation?! Oh ho, where is this going to lead?? ;)
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic so far! :D <3 all your feedback on the previous chapters has meant the WORLD to me, you help keep me inspired, thank you!!


	8. The World's Happy Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo remember when I said that my timeline would give Thomas and Newt an extra day to fall in love?? ;)  
> Hope you all enjoy! This was one of my favourite chapters to write - it ended up being so long I had to split in two, so the next part will be up shortly! <3

_13 April 1912_

Thomas had desperately hoped he would be able to spend more time with Newt, although he had already been granted more than he had thought or hoped possible.

In that respect, he was glad Teresa was so independent; her days were filled with activities and social engagements, so many that Thomas had barely been able to keep track. She was giving him the breathing space they both knew he needed, and he was grateful beyond words as he slipped away from his first class company yet again.

“What shall we do today, Thomas?” Newt asked, greeting him with a bright smile at the top of the third class stairs, leaning on the railing.

He had no business looking so attractive in that manner, Thomas decided. “Ah, I thought we might take a private tour of the ship,” he said, nervously fidgeting with his hands. He coughed. “As in - as in just us.”

Newt’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly. His thoughts backtracking so fast he could barely keep up, Thomas began to apologise when the softest, most beautiful smile spread across Newt’s features.

“I’d love that, Tommy,” Newt said earnestly. He cleared his throat, standing upright and straightening his shirt. “So, where to first?”

o-o-o-o-o

“That was terrible!”

“Poor shot, my arse!”

“Who were you aiming for?”

“Not you, clearly.”

A loud laugh burst from Thomas’s mouth as he skilfully smacked the squash ball in Newt’s direction; Newt effortlessly sent it flying back. It was luxuries such as this that made it hard to believe they were on a ship; however, much to their amusement, they could feel the squash court tilting with the roll of the ocean, providing them with an unexpected challenge.

“In all honesty -” _thwack_ “- you aren’t terrible -” _thwack_ “- considering you’ve never played before.”

Newt grinned impishly. “Not bad for some poor sod off the bloody streets -”

_Thwack_. “Beginner’s luck?”

Newt snorted, hitting the ball back with a vengeance. “Mate, I’m one of the luckiest shanks in history if I think about the last few days -”

“And what, receiving the honour of acquainting my sorry backside?”

“It’s a lovely arse, if I say so myself -”

Thomas’s brain short-circuited, his cheeks flushing. “Uh - I -”

The distant sound of a door opening made his heart race with anxiety. His embarrassment momentarily forgotten, Thomas glanced behind him, but the two of them remained alone on the courts.

Newt chuckled. “Tommy, you don’t have to look over your shoulder every two seconds.”

Thomas shook his head, laughing; he knew he was being ridiculous, but the habits had unfortunately been ingrained in him. “Sorry. It’s the Grievers.”

“Pardon?”

“Father’s valets,” he clarified. Grimacing, he made a swing, sending the ball soaring across the court. “They have a habit of following me around.”

Newt swept the hair out of his eyes as he hit the ball back at Thomas. “Why on earth do you call them Grievers?”

“Because they give me grief,” Thomas deadpanned.

A moment later, the two of them burst into fits of laughter, the ball ricocheting off the wall, ignored.

o-o-o-o-o

The urge to cool off soon found them in the first class swimming pools, once again empty except for themselves; Thomas assumed the other passengers were out enjoying the spectacular weather, and was not about to complain.

Waist deep and shirtless, he glanced over at Newt. “Come on,” he waved. “Join me.”

Perched on the top step in his underclothes, Newt stared anxiously at the water pooling around his ankles. He bit the inside of his cheek, something flickering in his expression. “Tommy, I don’t really know how to swim,” he admitted quietly.

Thomas paused. After a moment, he moved towards Newt, gently taking his wrists. “I’ll teach you,” he promised, starting backwards. His eyes utterly trusting, Newt stepped after him, following him, letting Thomas guide him. “Trust me.”

A soft chuckle. “I do, Tommy.”

Thomas taught him the basics of floating and treading water, ready to catch him as they bobbed deeper into the pool. It was effortless, Newt listening to his every word.

“There you go, there you go,” he murmured, his hands resting carefully at Newt’s waist, reminding him that he was there, just in case. “Lift your stomach; let the water take your weight ... that’s it ...”

There was no sound but the lapping of the water for a couple of minutes.

“You’re a natural,” Newt said softly.

Thomas smiled, thinking of the same words he had uttered the previous day. “We had a pool at the residence where I grew up,” he said. “It was an escape for me.”

“Yeah?” Newt prodded gently, glancing at him.

Heavens above, Thomas could get lost in those brown eyes. “I didn’t have to think,” he eventually answered. “It was just me and the water. Once submerged ... the rest of the world disappeared.”

“You’re like a mermaid. Or a siren.”

Thomas had to laugh, the sound echoing. “A siren, huh?”

Newt chuckled. “You’ve heard of them, right?”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “I just never had any interest in the stories.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure how much the sirens would have affected me anyway -”

He stopped short, his eyes widening in horror. He had been too casual, had revealed too much. He could already imagine the disgust that must be rolling off Newt, like it did with his father -

Newt’s fingers brushed his arm, bringing him back to the present. His eyes were gentle and incredibly kind ... but also strangely vulnerable. “Me neither, Tommy,” he admitted softly. “Me neither.”

After a while, Thomas settled into a float on his back beside Newt, confident enough in his swimming ability to leave him be. Stretching out his limbs, he exhaled deeply, his eyes closing as he listened to the steady thrum of Titanic’s heartbeat around them. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so peaceful.

“Isn’t it weird,” Newt began, “that we’re floating in a pool of water, on a ship that is also floating in a pool of water.”

Thomas grinned. “You have such a way with words.”

“Bugger off!”

A wave of water crashed over Thomas, making him splutter and gasp, arms flailing. He glared at Newt, who only laughed harder at his reaction.

A second later, Newt was bombarded with water.

Shouts and squeals - _manly_ squeals, Thomas decided - echoed about the pool space as they splashed each other, back and forth, unrelenting, grinning and spluttering, their laughter rising with their spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! (btw the title of this chapter is a line from Canyon Moon (Harry Styles) which makes me think of newtmas in this au! Caught up in their own little moment)
> 
> So as I said at the start, this and the next chapter are the whole extra day that Newt and Thomas have to fall in love with one another :D (I couldn’t stop writing and it was getting SUPER long so I split it in two)
> 
> Hope some of the banter and flirts made you smile <3 <3 I’m having so much fun writing these two, and in a period setting ahh!!!! It’s actually a dream come true.
> 
> This chapter is one of the reasons I’ve wanted to write a Titanic fic for so long. I wanted to explore the ship! There was so much you didn’t get to see in the 1997 movie, and it has been awesome to have the opportunity to add in some of the other areas of Titanic because she really was a beautiful ship.
> 
> HISTORY STUFF COMING UP!!  
> It would have cost 50 cents to use the squash courts for a half hour, the price of which included the instructor (Fredrick Wright) to teach you!  
> The heated saltwater swimming pool was only open for first class passengers. Men could use it for free from 6-9am. After that, it was women (10am-2pm) then men (2pm-6pm), at a cost of 25 cents each.
> 
> Thank you for coming to my history lesson! (I think I wrote those out right haha)
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic so far! :D <3 have a wonderful day!!


	9. The Game's Afoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had so much fun with this one, hope you all enjoy!! <3 :D

They worked their way across the ship, exploring libraries and tea lounges and crew-only corridors. Thomas felt like a naughty schoolboy, but he revelled in the acts against his father. They went wherever they liked; even a peek into the boiler rooms that left them both with sooty faces sent them into gales of laughter as Newt wrote rude words in the black dirt on Thomas’s forehead.

At one point they accidentally stumbled across the Master-at-Arms’ office, the man himself firmly escorting them back to the passenger common areas with an amused expression on his face. “Boys will be boys,” they heard him muttering.

As the afternoon rolled around, an impending sense of doom crept up on Thomas until, finally, he could bear the weight of his troubles no longer.

“Newt, we have a problem.”

Leaning against the promenade railing, Newt raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?” he prompted.

The words began tumbling from Thomas’s mouth. “My father has invited you to dinner with us, but he thinks you’re a rich first class bachelor traveling on his own, and I know that if he finds out you’re from steerage he’ll forbid me to see you -”

“Slow down, Tommy!” Newt cried, laughing as he clamped his hands down on Thomas’s shoulders, holding firm. “Just breathe, alright?”

Nodding fervently, Thomas exhaled shakily. “Okay. I’m okay.”

“Good that. So, let me get this straight.” Newt’s brow furrowed. “Your father has invited me to dinner with every other first class shank on this ship, but he believes that I am _also_ a first class shank. Yeah?”

“Uh, yeah,” Thomas agreed, smiling sheepishly.

“How on earth did you pull that one, mate?” Newt wondered.

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “He cornered me and asked why I wasn’t spending time with Teresa. I panicked and told him I’d met a friend, and so now he wants to meet you.”

“To prove you wrong,” Newt realised sadly.

Thomas nodded miserably. “That just about sums it up.”

The silence stretched, save for the rumble of the ship around them and the rolling of the ocean.

Suddenly, Newt grinned conspiratorially, grabbing his shoulders again. “My friend, I think it’s about time we gave your father a run for all his money.”

Thomas blinked. “How?”

“We are going to bloody _own_ this, you hear me?” Newt’s expression was borderline mischievous, his eyes alight with determination. “We’ll tell stories, pretend we met out on deck or some klunk; we’ll alibi every single moment you haven’t been at your fiancé’s side, and then your father won’t be able to say anything else on the matter. Good that?”

Thomas mulled it over for a moment. He knew it wouldn’t be the walk in the park Newt was claiming it to be; there were many rules and social procedures Newt didn’t know about, that could catch them out if they weren’t careful, not to mention the scores of wealthy people they would have to fool who would be interested in the money side of Newt’s supposed rich family ... but it could just work.

“Good that,” he parroted, smiling.

Newt laughed, his eyes twinkling as he ran a hand through his hair, tousling the golden strands; heaven help him, Thomas wanted to touch it. “I guess we’d better start with the shucking princess lessons,” he laughed. “I mean, I’m not too shabby at bowing, but I wouldn’t have a bloody clue how to -”

He stopped mid-sentence, staring. “Tommy ... what on earth am I going to _wear_?”

o-o-o-o-o

Teresa’s face lit up as she opened the door and saw the two of them standing in the hallway. “Come in, come in!”

The moment they were inside, Teresa checked the coast was clear and shut the door behind them.

“You didn’t answer your stateroom door,” Thomas explained. “I wondered if you were here.”

He found it hard to tear his eyes away from his companion, who was gazing around the sitting room in awe. Newt lightly brushed a hand over the fireplace mantle, keen eyes taking in every detail of the wood panelings.

Teresa shook her head. “I’ve been reading my book out on the deck,” she informed him. “I found it a little too cold upstairs in the open today.”

She was right; the temperature outside had begun to drop substantially. “Fair enough,” Thomas said with a warm, earnest smile. He gestured to Newt. “Teresa, meet Newt. Newt, Teresa.”

Newt nodded formally, stepping over to join them. “Ma’am.”

Teresa glanced at Thomas. “He knows about ... our ...?”

“Arrangement?” Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah. Yeah, he does. And about dinner tonight.”

Nodding, Teresa’s grin returned with full force, something she kept for company in private. “Newt, it is so good to finally make your acquaintance.”

Newt looked momentarily startled by the warm reception before he smiled back. “The pleasure’s mine.”

“Teresa, Newt’s not going to fit any of my suits. He’s a smaller build than me.” He glanced anxiously towards the door; he knew their time was limited. “Do you have anyone we could call upon?”

Teresa pursed her lips for a moment, her brow creased in thought. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “My friend Brenda down the hall, her brother George will have spares. We’ll go talk to her now.”

Thomas felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “Thank you, Tess -”

They heard a key jangle in the lock; their heads whipped around.

“Thomas?” a voice called.

 _Janson_.

“Go, go, go!” Teresa hissed, shoving at Thomas and Newt. “He can’t see you yet!”

They flew down the hallway, past another bedroom, and into the last suite. Teresa shut Thomas’s door as quickly and quietly as possible, hearing the door to the sitting room open.

Teresa started yanking at Thomas’s shirt buttons. He stumbled backwards. “Tess - Teresa!” he spluttered.

“Make it look like you’re getting dressed for dinner!” Teresa hissed, kicking his ankles; taking the hint, Thomas hurriedly tugged his shoes off.

“Thomas, are you here?” Janson called again.

Thomas glanced at Newt, who was stood by the bed and clearly on the verge of hysterical laughter, a hand clamped over his mouth. “In my room, Father!” he replied.

“Newt, with me,” Teresa said, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the door.

“See you at dinner, Tommy!” Newt grinned, winking as he slipped out of the room, the door closing firmly behind him.

His hands still gripping his shirt, Thomas stared after him, his mouth agape and cheeks flushing. Had - had Newt actually _winked_ at him?

The door handle turned and Janson strode into the suite, the room immediately feeling smaller. “Ah, Thomas. Getting dressed for dinner?”

Frantically schooling his expression into something more neutral, Thomas didn’t know what else to respond. “Yes, sir.”

“Good, good.” Looking about the room, Janson’s gaze came to rest on Thomas’s dresser, any remaining warmth vanishing from his eyes. “I see you have not been wearing your ring. Any particular reason?”

Thomas swallowed audibly. These conversations with his father always felt dangerous, like crossing a proverbial minefield. “I - I forgot.”

It was a weak excuse, and they both knew it. He shrank back under Janson’s suddenly stern gaze. “Pathetic,” he said coldly. “Teresa has been wearing hers faithfully the entire voyage.”

And she had, accompanied by a flood of compliments every day about how beautiful the piece of jewellery was.

“Show her some respect and wear your own. They are a matching pair, as are you two, so start acting like it.”

Thomas ducked his head, his cheeks burning. “Yes, sir.”

As soon as Janson left the room, Thomas went over to his dresser and lifted the lid on his music box, a knot loosening in his chest as he listened to the soft melody within; he could almost hear his mother’s kind voice, telling him it would all be okay. The trinket had belonged to her, one of the few possessions he had of hers, the rest locked away.

His hair carefully smoothed back, he set down his comb and picked up his ring, staring at the intricate metal band, covered in lines that reminded him of a maze.

A maze he himself was trapped in, he sighed, jamming the ring onto his finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was a long one!! Thank you so much for reading this!!
> 
> I really hope you all enjoyed this update - and yay, Teresa is fully onboard (so to speak) with the entire scheme! (That scene running into the bedroom, Teresa kicking Thomas’s ankles, I was cackling the whole time. She’s honestly so much fun to write!)
> 
> Janson has NO IDEA what is about to hit him - the next few parts are about to get very interesting hehe. PLUS mentions of some upcoming characters ;D I’m super excited to introduce them all!! (and we got a maze reference, whoo!!)
> 
> Also a few mentions of Thomas’s past! I’m trying something a little different with this fic. Instead of info dumping or having characters do lengthy explanations, I’m attempting to just sprinkle information here and there, so by the time we get to the end of this story we should have the whole picture of these characters and their past. I’m looking forward to some things suddenly making sense for all you readers later on!!
> 
> Hope some of the shenanigans made you smile <3 <3 As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic so far! :D <3 would genuinely love to know your thoughts on this latest chapter.
> 
> (and thank you so much to all you wonderful people who have left comments - I’ve had some really amazing ones lately that have honestly left me tearful. Thank you for sharing your love for this fic, it’s really keeping me going and truly means the world to me).


	10. Masquerade, Love Parade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dinner shenanigans commence!! :D enjoy!! <3

“Come in,” Thomas called, slipping on his suit jacket.

He hadn’t heard anything, so it was best to assume all had gone to plan with Brenda; however, it didn’t stop the knot of anxiety forming in his chest.

Teresa slipped into the room, all dressed for dinner. She grinned impishly. “I’ve instructed Brenda to tell Newt how to get to the Grand Staircase. We’ll meet him there.”

Thomas’s face fell, unable to hide his disappointment at not being able to walk to dinner with Newt. “Why?” he asked, internally scolding himself for such a childish response.

“Because,” Teresa began with a knowing smile, straightening his bow tie, “your man has never seen you in a tux, and I want to see his expression when he does.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. “You look good, Tom.”

He grinned back at Teresa, admiring the shimmering blue dress she wore. “As do you, milady,” he said, offering her his arm.

Laughing, she smacked his chest lightly and took his elbow. “What an utter charmer.”

Janson emerged from his room at the same time as them. He looked his son up and down, nodding approvingly. “Looking sharp, Thomas.”

It was a rare compliment. Thomas tried not to let his surprise show. “Thank you, sir.”

As they swept down the hallway together, joining a stream of other passengers, Thomas found himself feeling excited about dinner for the first time since the voyage had commenced. _Newt, Newt, Newt,_ his heart chanted.

They took an indirect route to allow entry to the Grand Staircase at A Deck, a whim Janson reluctantly indulged. Perhaps Thomas’s enthusiasm had shone through his subdued upper class mannerisms. Or perhaps Janson wanted to make yet another entrance.

Whatever the case, Thomas was delighted. The Grand Staircase was one of his favourite features, the beautifully carved, sweeping oak steps descending all the way from A to E Deck, lined with balustrades of wood and iron. A magnificent clock adorned the A Deck landing, flanked by the intricately carved figures of Honour and Glory Crowning Time. Above their heads was a wrought iron and glass dome, which let in the natural daylight before being lit at night from behind, leaving it ever-glowing.

Even the foyer was charming, decorated with potted plants, plush chairs, and beautifully polished black and white tile. Thomas’s eyes swept the space appreciatively, his heart thrumming with contentment.

And that’s when he saw Newt.

Teresa winked at Thomas and strode ahead with Janson. “I don’t think I will ever not be impressed by the beauty of this ship,” she said. “Such craftsmanship in the woodwork.”

“I couldn’t agree more, my dear.” Janson pointed to the carved cherub at the bottom of the stairs. “Mr Andrews did a remarkable job. He’s the ship’s master builder; I must introduce you to him tonight. He would be delighted by your observations.”

Thomas couldn’t take his eyes off Newt. He stood tall, one hand at his lower back, his hair slicked back: the picture of every other first class boy strolling past. He looked about the room with a detached gaze, appearing almost bored by his surroundings. Descending the staircase towards him, Thomas couldn’t help but chuckle.

His head turning at the sound, Newt’s eyes locked with Thomas’s. Excitement swept across his features, his eyes suddenly twinkling.

He looked utterly breathtaking.

“You scrub up well, Tommy,” Newt commented.

They shook hands, Thomas’s heart pounding as their fingers touched. “I could say the same for you,” he laughed. _Like a new penny._

“Brenda did a wonderful job, I must admit.”

Thomas had to bite back a smile at the way Newt had adopted the upper class speaking patterns. He gestured to Teresa as she returned to his side. “Newton, I’m sure you remember my fiancé, Teresa?” he said, laying the formalities on thick.

Newt immediately took the hint. “Miss Agnes, it is lovely to see you again,” he greeted with a warm smile, bowing and planting a light kiss on Teresa’s hand.

Teresa raised her eyebrows at Thomas. _I like this one,_ she mouthed, making him grin.

Goodness, Newt was _perfect_.

There was a shadow over Thomas’s shoulder; he didn’t have to look to know who it was. “Thomas, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Janson said, eyeing Newt.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Father, this is the friend I told you about last night.”

Newt held out a hand, and when Janson took it, he shook it firmly. “Newton Isaacs at your service, sir.”

Thomas’s father gave a rare smile. “Please, call me Janson. We’re all friends here.”

Newt nodded fervently in agreement. “Yes, yes, of course.”

As they engaged in further small talk, Teresa leaned close to Thomas. “First name basis with the father already?” she teased in his ear.

“Shh,” Thomas hissed, but he was fighting back a grin as he took Teresa’s arm. “Newton, if you would join us?”

“Certainly, Thomas,” Newt smiled, falling in step with him as Janson went on ahead.

Thomas glanced sideways at his companions; it seemed all three of them were fighting not to burst into fits of laughter.

“My, my, Teresa, isn’t your fiancé dashing!” a voice exclaimed.

“Brenda!” Teresa greeted happily as a girl their age swung into view in a dazzling silver dress, her dark hair twisted up in a swathe of crystals. “Thomas, this is Brenda. We became acquainted at lunch yesterday.”

Thomas took her hand and kissed it, Newt repeating the gesture a moment later. “I appreciate the assistance you’ve given us today,” he said earnestly. “Thank you.”

“In all honesty, I could do with a bit of entertainment,” Brenda said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “These dinners do tend to drag on, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Wholeheartedly,” Thomas chuckled.

“Thomas!” Janson called.

Thomas fought not to roll his eyes as he smiled winningly. “Coming, Father!” he replied, taking Teresa’s arm again as Newt took Brenda’s.

They descended through the levels of the ship amidst the other splendidly dressed passengers, the air rife with chatter and laughter. Thomas could tell Newt was impressed, a quiet awe on his features as he looked about, taking in every detail; he wondered if Newt’s fingers itched to pick up a pencil and sketch the whole lot.

There was a certain magic to the dining room as Thomas and Newt waltzed in with their respective partners. Thomas suddenly found himself appreciating the beauty of the decor; of the crystal chandeliers shining over their heads, of the tables laden with gleaming silverware and plates stamped with the White Star emblem.

All that time, his gaze kept helplessly drifting to Newt.

“I’ll meet you at the table,” Brenda said, winking at them before disappearing into the throng of finery.

Gentlefolk stood about chatting and laughing. His gaze sweeping across the faces around him, Thomas decided some introductions were in order. He leaned closer to Newt. “That gentleman over there,” he began in a hushed tone, “that’s John Jacob Astor, the richest man on the ship.”

“His wife Madeline is beside him,” Teresa added. “She’s in, ah, a _delicate_ condition at the moment. It’s caused a bit of a scandal in our social circles, if you notice a few stares.”

Newt raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“Speaking to her is Molly Brown,” Teresa continued, “She’s wonderfully kind and tells the funniest of stories, but she’s often brushed off because she’s new money.”

“A fortune that wasn’t inherited,” Thomas explained at Newt’s questioning look. “Her husband struck gold someplace out west.”

Newt shook his head. “What a bunch of snobs,” he muttered, making Thomas grin.

“Young Greene!”

It was Molly Brown, a twinkle in her eye as she wandered past them. “I see a pair of boys larking about and my first instinct is to put them to work,” she teased.

Thomas patted his belly. “Not before we’ve had dessert, I hope.”

Molly laughed loudly, smacking his shoulder and continuing on her way. Newt smiled softly. “You’re good at this,” he commented.

Thomas chuckled, shaking his head. “You learn how to handle these people after a while.” He cleared his throat, looking about at their company. “And then we’ve got J. Bruce Ismay, the managing director of White Star Line; beside him is Benjamin Guggenheim - oh, there!” he exclaimed excitably, nodding towards a white-haired man entering the room.

Newt squinted. “The old geezer with the decorations?”

“Newt!” Thomas hissed, his voice strained with laughter.

“That’s the _captain_ ,” Teresa giggled. “Remember your manners, Newton.”

“Certainly, milady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!! These chapters are getting longer and longer, I literally can’t stop writing this omg. I cut it here, and they’ll be eating dinner in the next part. (Who recognised the song reference in the title? Yep, Backstreet Boys!!)
> 
> It was amazing for me to be able to talk properly about the beautiful design of Titanic - I could honestly gush about her for hours. It sounds a little cliche but I LOVE the Grand Staircase - I still remember standing on a replica of it when I visited the Titanic exhibit in Las Vegas 10 years ago, and I was just it utter awe. It was BEAUTIFUL, and I can only imagine what it must have been like to see it on the actual ship. (haha see there I go!!!!)
> 
> Thomas Brodie Sangster has an iconic frown and I could picture him wearing it at the start of that scene while he’s waiting for Thomas haha. I loved loved LOVED writing them (and Teresa) talking and bantering with one another. I quite enjoyed the contrast; in earlier first class scenes with Thomas, he feels like he can’t breathe, but here he’s genuinely looking forward to it all (even with his father around!!) simply because of Newt’s presence!
> 
> AND BRENDA!!! (You’ll get to meet the rest of her family in the next one, and hear plenty more from her!) Brenda’s appearance was such a highlight to write, I really hope you liked her in this one! (Like, yes, she sounds a little more upper class, but it’s still the Brenda we know and love!)
> 
> Titanic was called the Millionaires’ Ship, and she most certainly was!! Here we’re also meeting a few famous people who were onboard at the time! (With Newt being his usual cheeky self!). I’m gonna repeat myself haha, I just love acknowledging the HISTORY that’s going with this story!! This was literally PEAK Edwardian society/era.  
> (With the Molly/Margaret Brown name option, I decided to stick with Molly. I read that it’s what many called her by, and her personality as shown in passenger accounts thinks Molly suits her more in this context).  
> These characters will probably not make a reappearance, but it’s that historical element once again that I wanted to show.
> 
> (Oops, this author’s note is nearly as long as the chapter!!) Hope this update made you smile <3 <3 As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic so far! :D <3 would genuinely love to know your thoughts
> 
> (and thank you so much to everyone who has left comments sharing your love for this fic, it’s really keeping me going and truly means the world to me <3).


	11. Solidarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be our guest, be our guest, put our service to the test!! :D Part TWO of dinner shenanigans!! I had a lot of fun with this one. Enjoy!! <3

When they reached their reserved table, Thomas discovered he had been placed between his two companions. He exhaled in relief as he pulled out the chair for his fiancé, gesturing for Newt to take a seat.

They had the company of a few familiar faces for the evening. Teresa had somehow found herself next to Thomas Andrews, with Janson on his other side; seated beside them, and thus completing their circle, was Brenda, her brother George, and their father Jorge.

“My father’s real name is also George,” Brenda informed them as she introduced her family, “but everyone calls him Jorge after a _certain_ incident in Spain.”

“I’ve not yet consumed enough champagne to recount that occasion,” Jorge laughed, his eyes glinting with a similar mischief to Brenda’s. Thomas immediately decided he liked him.

As the waiters came around with drinks and trays laden with food, Newt stared at his utensils in horror. He leaned closer to Thomas. “Are these all for me?” he whispered, eyeing the eight pieces of cutlery laid out before him.

Thomas felt a flutter in his gut at the whiff of his cologne. “Just - just follow me. Start from the outside and work your way in.”

“Bloody hell.”

It was course after course of delicious, rich food. Duck and chicken, salmon and lamb, potatoes, vegetables, soup; it was never-ending. Newt stared at every plate hungrily, although his table manners were impeccable as he consumed each portion. Thomas realised that he had probably never seen so much food in his life.

Not for the first time, he thought how unnecessary many of their upper class comforts were. _Three food courses would have sufficed_.

“Teresa here was admiring the craftsmanship of your vessel earlier,” Janson said to Andrews conversationally. “Most notably the woodwork.”

Andrews smiled at Teresa. “Thank you, Miss Agnes. She is, undoubtedly, one of the most beautiful ships I have ever had the pleasure of working on -”

“How are you finding all this?” Thomas whispered to Newt.

Newt chuckled quietly. “I’m beginning to feel like one of those bloody stuffed birds you see on the top of ladies’ hats.”

Thomas gave an undignified snort of laughter, rapidly clearing his throat at the disapproving look from his father. “I’ll let you know if you start sprouting feathers,” he said, his voice strained with laughter.

“Please do.”

As they ate, the table was rife with discussion. The unknown member of their party, Newt received the majority of the questions.

“My dream is to pursue art,” Newt told the group, taking a sip of his champagne. “It was part of my studies in my youth, and I discovered a certain fondness for it.”

“Newt was kind enough to show me some of his work earlier,” Thomas interjected. “His portfolio of life portraits is amazing, to say the least.”

“You flatter me, Thomas,” Newt said with a smile. “I’m traveling to meet with my aunt in San Francisco, where I hope to attend university.”

“San Francisco is an inspiring city,” Andrews commented.

Newt smiled graciously. “It certainly sounds like it, good sir, if my aunt’s letters are anything to go by. I’m very grateful for the opportunity to stay with her for the time being.”

The conversation drifted to places they had visited, of extended vacations in France and Italy, of days exploring foreign towns and nights toasting to the lives they led as they admired dazzling city lights from rooftop terraces.

“You are traveling by yourself?” Jorge asked Newt as he was served a portion of caviar.

Newt nodded, setting down his cutlery; a subtle glance at Thomas’s plate gave him the correct positioning. “It was not always so,” he lamented. “My parents passed in an unfortunate accident, and it has taken some time to get my affairs in order.” He waved his hand. “Matters of the estate, as you know.”

There were nods and murmurs of understanding, sympathetic words passed to him, and Newt accepted them gratefully. Thomas’s heart clenched at the flicker of pain in his eyes; he longed to reach out to him.

“Remind us again how you met Thomas here?” Janson asked. “I’m glad to see he’s made a friend of worthy company.”

Teresa pursed her lips. Thomas stiffened, praying no one else had noticed the thinly veiled barb; he hoped desperately that Newt remembered the cover story they had decided upon.

Lightning shot through him as Newt’s knee brushed his own. Taking note of the space between their two chairs, his heartbeat roared in his ears; Newt had done it _deliberately_.

Newt chuckled warmly. “I was in the library doing some personal research when I bumped into him,” he said. “Had a stack of books so tall I could barely see who was behind them.”

There were chuckles and smiles, and Thomas couldn’t help feeling impressed; Newt had somehow managed to charm the entire table. Even Janson had a slight smile on his features.

“Thomas prides himself in being quite the scholar,” Teresa added, her hand brushing Thomas’s wrist as she gazed fondly at him. “I’ve heard there’s to be no compromising on the size of our library.”

“There sure won’t be,” Thomas agreed, smiling at Teresa as there was another bout of laughter from their dinner companions.

Unbeknownst to them all, Thomas found his knee touching Newt’s beneath the table once more, a private show of solidarity just for them, and them alone.

o-o-o-o-o

Predictably, Janson and the other gentleman departed for smokes and brandies after their plates had been cleared of dessert.

“Newton, would you care to join us?” Janson asked.

Thomas fought not to pull a face as Newt smiled politely. “I appreciate the offer, sir, but I fear I must retire shortly,” he declined. He extended his arm. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Greene.”

Janson smiled back, shaking his hand. “The pleasure’s mine.”

“Your son is wonderful company, truly,” Newt complimented. Ducking his head, Thomas flushed. “I hope to spend more time with him - that is, if Miss Agnes agrees.”

“Certainly.” Janson nodded courteously. “We will see you around, I’m sure.”

With that, he departed, and Thomas could finally exhale the breath he had been holding. Teresa smiled warmly at him. “You did wonderfully,” she assured him. He gave her a weak smile in return.

Clearing his throat, Newt clapped Thomas on the shoulder. “We’re going to take a stroll upstairs,” he announced.

Thomas frowned. “We are?”

Teresa’s eyes suddenly twinkled, a knowing and borderline mischievous smile gracing her features. “Have fun,” she said, the hint of a tease to her words.

Thomas had the distinct feeling the two of them had planned something behind his back.

Brenda winked in his direction, and he fought to keep his expression neutral. _Make that the_ three _of them_.

Newt smiled winningly. “Of course.” He bowed and kissed Teresa’s hand. “Miss Agnes, until we meet again.”

“Good night, Newton.”

As Newt said his farewells to Brenda, Thomas leaned close to Teresa. “Do you want me to escort you back to your stateroom?” he asked; they both knew the question was expected of them.

She shook her head. “I’ll be here a long while.” She kissed his cheek lightly, the glint still in her eyes. “Enjoy the party.”

Thomas blinked. _Party?_

She turned back to Brenda, the two of them instantly engaging in animated conversation, and Thomas and Newt departed the dining area side by side.

“Uh, _are_ we going for a walk?” Thomas asked.

Newt grinned at him, his features lighting up. “Oh, we are,” he assured him. “We’re just ... taking the long way around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!! Sorry about the wait on this one, I was sorting out some details for future scenes first. I hope you found this worth the wait <3
> 
> This scene honestly came so naturally to me!! I was amazed, I didn’t have to think too much about it. It was so much fun imagining what they might have talked about at those dinners, and the formalities!! They’re actually heaps of fun to write which I didn’t expect - and Newt being an utter Prince Charming, let’s be real.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the little Newtmas moments. I adored writing their little interactions, and Teresa also looking out for them too!! The image of Newt and Thomas sniggering over their own conversations at the table made me smile - and the fact that Thomas suddenly doesn’t care that his father is across the table from him because Newt!! is!!! here!!!
> 
> On the subject of names. I spent a good half hour going over the entire first class passenger list and all of them have very proper English names which certainly does not suit one of our characters. I’m so delighted that Jorge is another version of the name George, so I was able to sneak that in!! AND it DOUBLE WORKS because sons were often named after their fathers back then - I literally could not have planned this better myself!! :D  
> To be clear, we will be referring to him as Jorge for the rest of the story! (also, I love the idea of him having a ‘nickname,’ so to speak, in their social circles. For me it gives the impression that Brenda and her family are quite known, just like Janson is).
> 
> Hmm, what’s this about a party??? ;) ;) (omg. There’s so much going to happen in the next one, I can’t wait to finish it and share it)
> 
> Hope this update made you smile <3 <3 As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic so far! :D <3 would genuinely love to know your thoughts


	12. Colour and Noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Period version of Greenie bonfire nights, and Glader cameos galore!! :D I feel like this is one of the best chapters so far honestly. Enjoy! <3

_“Hey, hey, hey, ho!”_

The festivities in steerage were a world away from the upper class society Thomas had grown up in. Everywhere he looked, there were people dancing, drinking, gambling, even _brawling_. It was a wild, boisterous environment he had never experienced in his life, words of every language possible surrounding him.

A ragtag group of Irishmen had formed a band of sorts, spinning out tune after tune of traditional music from their homeland. The hand-clapping, foot-stomping beats filled the room and Thomas’s soul as he sipped on a cup of moonshine Newt’s friend had shoved into his hands.

“The name’s Minho, Greenie,” the young Asian man announced himself.

Thomas couldn’t be bothered to correct him.

Minho was loud, obnoxious, snarky and, in other words, the complete polar opposite of Newt. But, for some reason, Thomas quite liked him.

Thomas was introduced to the scores of new friends Newt and Minho had made, all of whom eagerly shoved more drinks and cigarettes into Thomas’s hands - both of which he politely declined. It was a blur of faces and names, some he recognised from his venture into steerage the previous day: Winston, Jeffrey, Zart, Clint, Gally, Siggy - who went by the nickname of Frypan - and Chuck.

Chuck was an endearing, chubby boy who proudly announced himself as just turned thirteen. “I’m gonna study at university when we get to America,” he grinned. “Well, not til I’m older, but I wanna be an engineer.”

“That’s, uh, that’s ambitious,” Thomas replied awkwardly.

“That’s what Ma and Pa said! But it’s the land o’ promise and all that klunk.” Chuck shrugged. “Gotta be worth something, eh?”

Thomas smiled. “Yeah, buddy. Good that.”

Minho swung back into view with another cup of moonshine. “Hey, that’s Newtie’s thing, Tomboy!” he grinned. “Teaching you to talk like a proper shank!”

Thomas paused. He really had parroted his new friend. _Huh_.

Gally sauntered over to the table, downing another cup of his drink. Thomas couldn’t stop staring at his frankly wicked eyebrows. “Initiation time, shank!” he hollered.

There were shouts and groans and cheers all at once. Thomas looked around nervously. “Uh, initiation?” he pressed.

Gally grinned. “Just a friendly arm wrestling competition.”

“ _Friendly_? You nearly broke my sodding arm!” Newt complained, despite the grin on his face.

Thomas gulped, flexing his wrist anxiously.

Minho clapped him on the shoulder suddenly, making him jump. “Don’t let us down, Greenie!” he shouted.

Gally sat down opposite Thomas at the table, planting his elbow on the wooden surface and staring expectantly at his opponent.

Hesitantly, Thomas mirrored his position and clasped Gally’s hand.

“Alright, shanks!” Minho called. “Three, two, one -”

Thomas wondered what he had just gotten himself into.

“GO!”

Their hands locked. Thomas gasped, tremors shuddering through his arm. He pushed against Gally’s hand as hard as he could, sweat beading on his forehead. Gally’s eyes widened, Thomas evidently stronger than he had anticipated as his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Thomas! Thomas! Thomas!” Chuck hollered.

The shouts of the others faded out around Thomas, his whole world narrowing down to his shaking arm. The seconds ticked by, each as agonising as the next.

Feeling his arm starting to tip, Thomas clenched his teeth, throwing as much power into his grip as he could, pushing forward with all his might. Gally’s hold slackened for the briefest second, and Thomas seized his chance, slamming Gally’s arm down onto the table.

The crowd of onlookers erupted in hollers and cheers. Newt clamped his hands down on Thomas’s shoulders. “Nice one, Tommy!” he yelled in his ear.

Gally laughed, shaking his hand. “You’re alright, for a rich guy.”

Thomas grinned. “Thanks.”

The other sounds in the room suddenly came back to him. Another tune was starting to play.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Chuck hollered, tapping his feet against the wooden floor. “Skip and dip and heel and toe!”

Setting his cup down, Newt extended his hand to Thomas. “Come on!” he grinned excitedly, sweeping the hair out of his eyes.

Thomas stared. He didn’t want to admit it, but as much as his heart yearned for it, he was scared; scared to be seen dancing with Newt. “But - what if - _people_ -”

“Tommy, no one cares!” Newt laughed, his eyes blazing with joy. He grabbed Thomas’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Come on!”

“Newt!” Thomas’s hands flailed awkwardly. “Uh - I -”

“We’ll have to get a little closer, mate,” Newt laughed, “like this.”

“Wait - what? I -” Thomas gasped as Newt manhandled him into position. He could feel his hands on him like lightning, his body thrumming in response at the press between his shoulder blades.

Hesitantly, he moved his hand to rest at the small of Newt’s back, and Newt beamed at him in response.

The fiddles and drums started to pick up, and Newt began to move, pulling Thomas along with him. He gripped Newt’s hand tighter. “I don’t know the steps,” he gasped.

“Yeah, you do!” Winston shouted from somewhere behind them. Distantly, Minho could be heard whooping and hollering.

His face inches from Thomas’s own, Newt grinned, and he melted. “Just go with it. Don’t think!”

And with that, for the first time in his life, Thomas _let go_.

Their arms around each other, hands clasped, they charged through the crowds, spinning and ricocheting from corner to corner, dodging tables and other dancers. His head spinning, an exhilarated laugh burst from Thomas’s mouth, a crow of pure joy from the depths of his being.

“There ya go, Tommy!” Newt shouted in his ear, grinning madly.

Thomas clutched at Newt, pulling him closer, holding on for dear life. Newt’s weight felt different in his arms, more relaxed and natural, as if Thomas was _meant_ to hold him; two pieces of two completely different puzzles somehow joining together seamlessly.

Dancing with Teresa held no surprises; it was always practiced and precise, following age-old musical protocols as they twirled emotionlessly amidst a throng of other couples. Here, there were no rules; every move was impromptu as Thomas listened to his heart, letting its beat fall in rhythm with the music; every turn was a delight, every step a leap of faith.

Newt rocked Thomas from side to side with the beat before lifting his arm and spinning him, both of them laughing and trying not to trip over their feet. Thomas felt like he could breathe properly; his worries about America, his marriage to Teresa, his father ... they were a million miles away, the music drowning out his thoughts until there was nothing but the pounding of the Irish instruments; louder and louder, faster and faster.

As he spun Newt around in his arms, his chest aching from laughing and his eyes wild and bright, nothing else existed. All that mattered was right here in this moment.

In a moment of boldness that astounded even himself, Thomas turned on his heel and dipped Newt as the song drew to a close amidst a chorus of clapping and cheering. His hands clamped against Thomas’s shoulders, Newt threw his head back, laughing; Thomas stared at his exposed throat, at the bob of his apple.

“Bugger me, Tommy!” Newt grinned up at him. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Thomas was alarmed by how much he wanted to close the distance between them.

“Drowsy Maggie, lads!” one of the Irishmen hollered distantly as Thomas’s heartbeat roared in his ears. “Give it all you got; let’s go!”

Within seconds another lively tune was struck up on the fiddles.

His cheeks flushing, Thomas smiled sheepishly and set Newt back on his feet, watching as a dance chain began to weave its way through the common area, heading in their direction.

“Come on, Tomboy!” Minho crowed, appearing out of nowhere and snatching Thomas’s wrist, pulling him along.

Thomas’s other hand snapped out, grabbing onto Newt’s. As they danced and skipped through the crowds of steerage passengers, the chain growing longer and longer, Thomas glanced back; Newt’s head was thrown back in laughter, his eyes shining.

_He’s beautiful,_ Thomas thought breathlessly.

A moment later, Newt shifted his hand to properly intertwine their fingers.

If this was what Newt’s world was like, living between one heartbeat and the next, drunk on love and laughter, the world an intoxicating blur of colour and noise ... Thomas knew it was where he belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!! <3 I think this was one of the most awaited chapters out of all the ones I’ve posted so far, it was awesome to read your excitement in the comments! (My inbox was overflowing with pure joy, thank you!!)
> 
> This one has been one of my absolute FAVES to write, and I hope you enjoyed it!! It was so much fun. I was playing the steerage music on repeat (song references: Blarney Pilgrims, John Ryan’s Polka, Kesh Jig & Drowsy Maggie) and was just generally having an awesome time picturing all the Gladers and the shenanigans they would get up to. It’s like a Greenie bonfire night in the Glade but with period context hehe :”D
> 
> Thomas is utterly besotted with Newt and I just adore writing him as a lovestruck disaster. In this scene I wanted to show just how completely in his element he is with Newt. Being in steerage has given Thomas the freedom he needs to be himself; he’s getting a taste of what a life with Newt might look like. It’s going to make going back to first class so much harder … but the night is not yet over ;)
> 
> Yeah, imma repeat myself. This was just so SO much FUN. This scene doesn’t drive the plot quite as much, but it’s a perfect resting place to just enjoy the moment a little bit. Gah!!! (Also, there’s a photo of Kate Winslet/Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic that inspired the little dip moment at the end there. It’s one of my faves, and Kate is laughing SO hard and I can just imagine that sort of thing for Newt).
> 
> Hope this update made you smile and you got a good laugh out of the Glader shenangans! <3 <3 As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic, I would love to know how this chapter went for you! :D <3


	13. Like a Bird on a Beam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *distant sounds of off-key drunken singing* you might want to cover your ears!! Or your eyes …. ;D <3

“ _Balance yourself like a bird on a beam_!” Thomas belted out, ridiculously off-key but not caring one jot. “ _In the air she goes_!”

“ _Where_?” Newt hollered.

“ _There she goes_!” the two of them shouted before bursting into laughter, stumbling along the boat deck together, shirts unbuttoned and bow-ties askew, their hair disheveled and shoelaces untied. “ _Up, up, a little bit higher -_ ”

“ _Oh, my, the moon is on fire_!” Newt bawled.

Thomas had to grip Newt’s waist tighter to keep himself upright as he doubled over laughing again. “ _Come Josephine in my flying machine! Going up, all on -_ ”

“ _Goodbye_!” they both cried, finishing the song with a flourish.

A light breeze swept around them. Thomas felt immune to the cold, swathed in a blanket of sweat and tipsiness. _How utterly unbecoming of a first class boy,_ he thought with a giggle, his spirit lighter than it had been in years.

Tilting his head back and looking up at the stars, he inhaled the crisp night air. “I know it’s crazy,” he grinned, “but it feels like I’ve known you my whole life.”

Newt looked up at him, smiling softly. “You ever hear the story about the red string of fate, Tommy?”

Thomas shook his head. “Tell me,” he said; he would have given anything to keep listening to his voice.

“Alright, so say there’s a red thread between two people, and one end is tied to each of them,” Newt began. His fingers drifted lazily across Thomas’s back. “This thread _can’t_ be broken. It can get tangled, and it may stretch a little, but it won’t break. Now, this miracle string can survive time and distance and whatever else you throw at it, and eventually, when all is right in the world, those people find a way back to each other.”

They slowly came to a stop by the railing, turning to face one another. Thomas wondered if that could happen; souls separated by space and circumstance, yet always destined to find their other half.

“A string, huh?” Shaking his head in amusement, Thomas mimed tugging on a thread. “That would explain why I’ve always been ridiculously clumsy.”

“What can I say?” Newt grinned. “I’m an impatient bastard.”

Time slowed.

Thomas was breathless. Newt’s eyes were shining, and he was so _close_ , his fingers tracing lines of lightning up his back -

His mouth crashed against Newt’s in a messy press of lips.

It was over before it had even started; his heart pounding, Thomas lurched backwards, horrified by his own lack of control. “Sorry,” he gasped as his spine hit the railing. “I don’t know what came over me -”

And then Newt grabbed him by the lapels and yanked him forward to kiss him back.

Fire roared through Thomas’s veins. He suddenly couldn’t keep his hands off Newt; he pressed closer, his arms wrapping around Newt’s waist as Newt’s own encircled Thomas’s neck, crushing them together. The world disappeared; it was just the two of them beneath the stars, in the middle of nowhere on the grandest ship the world had ever seen.

Kissing Newt was unlike anything Thomas had experienced. Newt’s lips were chapped and warm and soft, and Thomas found himself drowning in his cologne and the reek of cigarettes and moonshine.

Newt made a noise in the back of his throat, pushing him back against the railing again, and Thomas let him. Every part of him was alive, every nerve on end, his heartbeat roaring in his ears.

All too soon, they both pulled back, desperate for air.

They stood there for a moment, clutching one another, their foreheads pressed together. Laughing lightly, Newt brushed his fingers across Thomas’s cheeks, his hands cupping his face. “Breathe, Tommy,” he smiled.

Thomas laughed breathlessly. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Newt pulled him in again, pressing their lips together for a long, tender moment. “Good that,” he whispered. “Good that.”

o-o-o-o-o

Thomas was barely aware of the return trip to his quarters, he and Newt staggering down the corridors with their arms still around one another to keep upright.

“Shh, shh!” he whispered, before a trip over his own feet caused Newt to erupt in a fit of giggles, Thomas promptly following suit.

All too soon they arrived at Thomas’s stateroom. The two of them fell quiet, not wanting to leave the magic of the moment just yet but sensing their time together inevitably drawing to a close.

“Thank you,” Thomas whispered. “For everything tonight.”

Newt’s eyes twinkled. “I quite enjoyed pretending to be someone else.”

Thomas laughed. “Welcome to my world.” His expression suddenly turned shy. “I like the real you much more,” he said softly.

A smile spread across Newt’s face. “I’m glad, Tommy,” he whispered.

Reaching up, Thomas brushed his fingers across Newt’s cheek; Newt leaned into the touch, making Thomas’s heart near burst with emotion.

“What about your clothes?” he asked, moving his hand to tug at Newt’s shirt collar.

Newt chuckled. “Brenda gave me a secret knock to use. She’s up til late.”

“Her brother didn’t ask?”

Newt shook his head. “Brenda told me he wouldn’t miss one for the night.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “She said she’d have it washed before he even knew it was gone.”

Relief swept through Thomas. He would have to thank Brenda again when he saw her at church the next day.

Glancing up and down the corridor to check no one was about, Thomas pressed a quick, tender kiss to Newt’s lips, feeling bold, _daring_.

“Good night, Newt,” he whispered. “I’ll see you in the morning before the service.”

Newt’s expression was utterly fond. “Good night, Tommy,” he said, smiling softly as he stepped back, lifting Thomas’s hand to press one last, lingering kiss to his skin. “Until we meet again.”

Thomas’s heart was in his mouth. “Until tomorrow,” he promised.

Grinning dazedly, he entered his stateroom and closed the door between them, separating their two worlds once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say.
> 
> KIDDING!!!! I always have too much to say!!
> 
> So, how was that?! I’m kinda nervous what the reaction to this chapter is going to be haha. Thank you so so much for reading this.
> 
> These two are so in love. They are so completely, UTTERLY in love already I almost can’t breathe to write it. It makes me so, SO happy. I felt like this was the perfect place for this moment, I think I’ve managed to build it up enough in the last 12 chapters to give them believable chemistry/reasons to kiss, I hope?!
> 
> So from my view this ends ACT ONE of the story. We’re about to head into a little heavier plot which I’m VERY excited about!! Keep an eye out for little red herrings along the way.
> 
> This scene is inspired by a deleted scene in the 1997 film. So in the movie you also hear snippets of the song Newt and Thomas are singing atrociously, and you get the impression that it’s rather romantic - but Come Josephine has such a comedic beat to it that makes it far more appropriate for a scene like this!! I was searching up all kinds of songs from the early 1900s that would fit this scene, but Josephine ended up being the best choice.
> 
> The end of the chapter went through multiple revisions switching between who was doing the lips or hand kiss, but I ultimately decided that Thomas would properly kiss Newt once more - I loved the idea of him embracing a part of himself he’s never been able to before, that he’s taking control of his choices for one of the first times in his life. And the hand kiss, that’s one final glimpse of Prince Newt, as I’ve been calling him in my writing notes :”D
> 
> On a side note, the red string of fate is one of my favourite soulmate AUs!! <3 And it also cheekily links in to the idea that they really do exist in other universes!! Like the go maze trials universe, modern, period, Jumanji etc ;D
> 
> Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas (or should I say Merry NEWTMAS?) to you all!! Thank you so much for supporting my writing this year, in whatever way you did - reading, kudos, comments. You’re all legends and I love you. Wishing you all the best for the New Year as well!
> 
> Hope this update was everything you hoped for. As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic, I would love to know how this chapter went for you! :D <3


	14. Only to Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I’m back!!! Enjoy and prepare for some. Ah. Intense and slightly horrible parenting skills?

_14 April 1912_

Sunday dawned bright and clear, the air crisp and the skies a rich blue as gentle waves crashed against the side of the ship.

Bundled beneath his bed covers, Thomas touched his fingers to his lips for the umpteenth time, a slow smile spreading across his features. He rolled into his pillow again, hiding his face as giddiness overcame him.

He had kissed Newt.

_And Newt had kissed him back._

His heart thrummed with peace, with happiness, with an excitement he didn’t yet know how to contain. Exhaling a laugh, he clambered out of bed, clicking his back and sighing in contentment.

The previous night had spun like a dream. Thomas kept wondering if he had imagined the whole thing, but he only had to take one look at the crumpled suit draped unceremoniously on the chair, only had to take a whiff of the once pristine material for the memories to surge back, a little hazy but bold and _bright_.

Heavens above. He couldn’t believe they had actually managed to pull off their frankly outrageous scheme. Thomas knew Teresa would want to hear every sordid detail about what had occurred after dinner, and by goodness was he willing to tell her.

He grinned to himself. He could already imagine the wicked smirk on her face, her eyes gleaming with a knowing, utterly smug look.

It was why he adored her companionship so much. She understood him in ways no one else did.

_Well,_ he amended, smiling goofily, _except Newt._

Striding across the room to his dresser, he did a twirl, tapping his feet as he went, the faint echo of Irish instruments still in his ears. His heart sang with joy. _Newton._

And in less than an hour, he would see him again; he would get to see him smile, hear him laugh and hold him close.

“Come Josephine in my flying machine,” he sang to himself, pulling on a new shirt and trousers. “Up she goes ... a little bit higher ... oh the moon, the moon is on fire!”

There was a sharp knock on the door.

“One moment!” Thomas called, checking his appearance in the mirror and nodding in approval. “La da da dum, la da da da la dum -” He closed the lid of his music box, moving towards the door, “- going up, all on -”

The door opened, and Thomas lurched to a halt, his stomach plummeting to the soles of his shoes.

It was his father.

o-o-o-o-o

Perched in his wicker chair, Thomas had never felt more uncomfortable.

Janson had invited him and Teresa to join him for a light meal on their promenade deck. All three of them had filled the quiet with pleasant, mindless chatter, but there was a tension to the air that made Thomas uneasy. He hadn’t had a moment alone with Teresa all morning, and now, as he looked into the steel eyes of his father, he wondered if it was on purpose.

The moment Teresa excused herself to dress for the church service, Janson turned his iron gaze upon his son. Thomas felt his blood run cold.

“You didn’t escort Teresa back to her stateroom last night?”

Thomas pursed his lips. “It was at Teresa’s insistence. I retired early.”

Janson watched him piercingly for an eternal few moments. “Then why did I hear of you leaving the steerage common area in various states of undress?”

The colour drained from Thomas’s face.

“And _why_ ,” Janson leaned closer across the table, “could I not find a Newton Isaacs in the first class register?”

Thomas was silent. He had been caught in the lie, and they both knew it.

But his father hadn’t mentioned the kiss.

He just about passed out with relief, realising the Grievers had stopped following him upon his return to first class and had subsequently missed his private moment with Newt. Their precious, _beautiful_ moment, the thought of which now made his heart race not with affection, but with anxiety as he contemplated what a horrifically close call it had been.

His hands curled into fists.

“I forbid you to see that boy again,” Janson growled. “You’re lucky I didn’t have to run damage control for your drunken incident -”

“What does it matter?” Thomas exploded, an inexplicably sudden urge to fight back rising within him, his anger blistering and sharp.

Even Janson looked surprised. “I _beg_ your pardon?”

“We’ll be off this ship in a few days,” Thomas snapped. “I won’t be seeing any of these people again. Why would they care?”

“Do not raise your voice at me,” Janson hissed. “You may have forgotten, but a number of passengers onboard this vessel hold invitations to your wedding.”

“I never had a say in the guest list,” Thomas spat.

Janson’s hands gripped his chair. “Is this a game to you, Thomas? Frankly, I am appalled you had the sheer audacity to bring him into our social circles. His mere presence made a mockery of everything we stand for; you assumed him as an equal -”

“He _is_ ,” Thomas argued.

“Did his forefathers slave away to attain a wealth that sustains him as it does you today, you ungrateful brat?” Janson said nastily. Thomas flinched. “No, I didn’t think so. You have a reputation and name to uphold, not just for yourself, but for me, your fiancé, and your future children.”

Closing his eyes, Thomas gripped the edge of the table to hold himself together. There it was, the talk of his inescapable future once again.

_Focus,_ Newt’s soft voice murmured in his head. _What are you touching? What can you feel?_

_He could feel the smoothness of the tablecloth beneath his fingers; the uncomfortable inners of his dress shoes -_

“Thomas!” Janson barked. “Are you listening to me?”

Thomas jerked his head, lifting his head to look at him again. “Does my happiness not bear any weight on this matter?” he asked pitifully, a dangerous, wavering edge to his voice. “Newt is my friend.”

_Heavens above, he was so,_ so _much more._

“You foolish boy, happiness has nothing to do with it; he is not worthy of your friendship nor your company,” Janson said, rolling his eyes. “Before long he’ll be scrounging for money and come begging at our doorstep, mark my words.”

“But -”

“You will not see that Isaacs boy again, or there will be severe consequences - your freedom to roam the ship first and foremost. Do you understand?”

Thomas’s chest tightened painfully, the words choking in his throat, suffocating him. “I ... understand.”

Janson squinted at him disbelievingly. “You’ll be under watch from now until we disembark, is that clear?”

Thomas’s hands began to shake. “Perfectly, Father.”

“Good.” Janson stood up and straightened his shirt. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’ve got a church service to look presentable for and I will _not_ be late due to your ineptitude.”

He threw his napkin down and swept back into the suite. His heart thundering, Thomas slid off his seat, falling to the deck on his knees. He buried his face in his hands, gasping raggedly.

_“Give me three things you’re touching and what they feel like.”_

_“Um. The deck. It’s - it’s smooth. Polished.”_

_“Good, good. I don’t envy the poor bugger who had that job.”_

Choking out a sob, Thomas jammed the heels of his hands against his burning eyes, trying desperately to quell the surge of white hot tears against his lids.

_What had he done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and for your patience! I just needed a break to get back in the right headspace (and of course spend time with my family for Christmas!)
> 
> Admittedly, I really struggled with this one. Initially it was passable but missing a lot of what I wanted. Cue several nights of brainstorming and 3am writing sessions and voila! I think I addressed everything important.
> 
> The little Thomas piece at the start was so much fun to write! Adding on from the high of the previous night. I know I wrote it, but I still reread it. It’s one of my faves <3
> 
> Side note, the title is inspired by that quote “we rise, only to fall.” Thomas (and Newt) rose impossibly high in the last one (unintended Flying Josephine pun there haha), and now it’s all crashing down. We're officially entering ACT TWO of Unsinkable.  
> For Janson, class is EVERYTHING. He’s very protective of his wealth, and is extremely particular about who he interacts with in his social circles. In his mind, he’s been hugely insulted because he knows THOMAS knows he would not otherwise interact with anyone less. Janson was particularly nasty in this one, I hope you’ll forgive me for that. (However, feel free to yell about him down below!!)
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic, I would love to know how this chapter went for you! :D <3


	15. For Those in Peril

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!! I’ve been really looking forward to posting this one, thank you for all your responses on the last chapter :D enjoy!!

Teresa on his arm, Thomas strode into the same room they had dined in the previous night, the tables cleared to make room for rows of seats for prayer. He smiled, waving gaily to their friends and planting kisses on ladies’ hands in greeting, all in perfect form.

He was well aware of the pairs of eyes that followed his every move.

“Is Newton not joining us?” Brenda asked as Janson shook Jorge’s hand, then George’s.

Thomas felt her words like a punch to his gut, despite knowing she was discretely asking after him. He forced a smile. “He prefers to pray alone,” was all he said.

Brenda looked at him questioningly, but didn’t push the matter.

The moment she turned away, Thomas exhaled shakily, throwing Teresa a reassuring smile when she frowned at him. He hadn’t dared venture into steerage to see Newt, not even for a few moments.

His heart ached, yearning for the magic of the previous night when his soul had been light and his troubles far from his mind. He hoped desperately that Newt would understand his predicament, the awkward, miserable situation he had suddenly found himself in. Alas, explanations would have to wait, if they would even happen at all.

Nausea churned his stomach. _What if he never saw Newt again?_

Gripping Teresa’s fingers tighter, Thomas suddenly realised her hand felt different; a quick glance confirmed that one of her fingers was noticeably bare. “Where’s your ring?” he whispered to her.

She gave a distressed shake of her head. “I couldn’t find it,” she replied tightly. “I thought I left it on the dresser, but ...”

“I’m sure it will be somewhere,” Thomas assured her.

Teresa fiddled with her finger. Thomas could understand her anxiety; it was his mother’s ring, gifted to her upon their engagement. He squeezed her hand. “We’ll look for it when we get back,” he promised her.

Captain Smith stepped up to the podium, greeting them all with a warm smile and a few words of welcome, and the service began.

Joyous singing filled the room, voices rising to the ceiling in praise. His mind in utter turmoil, Thomas didn’t notice the passenger arguing with the crewmen on the other side of the doors, nor the way he was ushered back towards third class. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on his booklet, gripping it tightly in an attempt to put an end to the tremble of his hands, unable to ignore the small, niggling thought that maybe, just maybe ... his father was right.

_“For hear us when we cry to Thee for those in peril on the sea.”_

o-o-o-o-o

“I knew it. I bloody _knew_ it!”

Lying down on Newt’s bunk, Minho peered out from behind the newspaper he was reading. “What, no Tomboy in tow?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Not by choice.” Newt threw his jacket down and fell onto his bed beside Minho, staring up at the upper bunk. “The Grievers are keeping an eye on Thomas - he can’t even _breathe_ without them looking at him -”

Minho frowned. “Grievers?”

“Janson’s henchmen. Don’t ask.”

“So, you _didn’t_ charm the pants off all the first class snobs again? Or swoop in to rescue Tomboy from the _woes of upper class life_?” he added dramatically, clutching his chest.

Newt groaned. “Bloody hell, Min, I couldn’t even get _in_ the room.” He frantically ran a hand through his hair, tousling the strands. “They must’ve been told to look out for me. That I was an impostor or something.”

“Which you were,” Minho pointed out.

Newt rolled off the bed and began to pace across the cramped space; back, forth, back, forth. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered. “First, Tommy didn’t show up this morning - and he _always_ does - and then he looked shucking awful at the service. I could see his hands shaking from the door.”

The sight had wrenched at his heart, but it was nothing compared to the horror that had ricocheted through him, realising that he himself had almost certainly had a hand in Thomas’s suffering.

“I think his father’s cottoned on, the slinthead,” he growled. “We weren’t careful at all last night, not after those drinks. Blimey, Tommy kept looking over his shoulder when we were exploring the ship yesterday; he said it was the Grievers, but I didn’t realise just how tight a hold they’ve got on him -”

Minho pursed his lips. “Hey, Newt ... maybe his father’s got a point.”

Newt glared at him, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you bloody dare, Min.”

“Look, the shank’s engaged to -”

“I know -”

“And he’ll probably end up having to drop you and -”

“I know!” Newt shouted, the sound echoing around the cabin. He exhaled shakily, clutching at his hair. “I _know_ , Minho, okay? But I have to try.” He shook his head. “You didn’t see him the other night. He was like me when my - when my parents - and -”

He broke off, falling to his knees and gripping the small metal capsule hanging from his neck for dear life. Minho immediately clambered off the bed, crouching on the floor beside him. “Hey, hey, Newtie,” he said quietly, rubbing Newt’s back. “Deep breaths. There you go.”

Finally, Newt looked up at him, his breath rattling through his torso. “They have him _trapped_ , Minho,” he whispered. “And he - he needs to know that there’s another choice, that he can escape.” He shook his head again. “I just can’t stand the thought of anything happening to him.”

Minho was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Swallowing thickly, Newt shakily grabbed his jacket and passed it to Minho. “Get dressed. Teresa’s going to the library, and you’re gonna meet her there. Not that you’d know a book even if I smacked you in the face with one,” he added halfheartedly.

Minho made a show of looking affronted. “First of all, ouch. Second, how’s that gonna help?”

“Look, Min,” Newt started, rubbing his face tiredly, “I need to speak to Thomas, and I need a distraction.”

The silence stretched.

“Me?” Minho stared at him. “You’re out of your shucking mind.”

“Not you, you idiot. _Teresa_. But she needs to know she _can’t leave Thomas’s side_. I got a glimpse of their faces at church; either Teresa doesn’t know about Janson, or she’s much better at hiding it.”

“So ... where do I come in?”

Newt’s eyes suddenly blazed with determination. “They don’t know you,” he said. “If you take the back stairways, you should be able to slip in unnoticed while I find a place to ambush Thomas and get him alone somehow. Janson’ll get suspicious if _another_ of Thomas’s friends appears out of thin air, and I can’t risk him taking it out on Tommy.” He wiped at his eyes. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

After a long moment, Minho nodded. “Weeell, it’s pretty tame by my standards,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he shrugged. “Thought you might ask me to dance in my underwear or some klunk - the ladies and gents would’ve been swooning, trust me -”

Newt rolled his eyes, a smile finally pulling at his mouth. “They would’ve _arrested_ you.”

“They’d have to catch me first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! The tone of the story is starting to change, but I really hope you’re still enjoying it even without the sappy love moments all the time haha.
> 
> A couple of things to unpack here. Thomas is very conflicted, but you have to remember that he has been controlled and manipulated by Janson his whole life. The effects of that aren’t going to suddenly disappear just because Newt has walked into his life. There’s a lot of learnings that he’s going to have to consciously undo. It’s a slow process of Thomas also learning to stand up for himself; there was a glimpse of it in the last chapter, followed immediately by him internally kicking himself as if he were wrong.
> 
> The reveal of Newt’s backstory is a lot slower, as I’ve said before. So, in regards to this. Newt is understandably upset and I wanted to show this side of him that you saw in the tmr verse. The part of him that cares so much even when he himself is breaking, the part the would go to the ends of the earth for the ones he cares about.
> 
> Minho has rejoined the story, whoo!! I missed him! I’ve really enjoyed writing another minewt scene - and a very important one at that. My thoughts are, Minho is very protective of Newt, and he doesn’t want to see him get hurt. He will be making more appearances, I promise!
> 
> And, of course, banter between Minho and Newt! This is how I always picture them, easily sliding between jokes and seriousness in the same sentence simply because they understand each other so well.
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic, I would love to know how this chapter went for you! :D <3 thank you again, have an amazing day!!


	16. An Unexpected Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been so excited to post this one!! It wasn’t in the original outline at all. Slammed out 1000+ words in one afternoon which I was so proud of - all based on a ridiculous, typo ridden note I made at 5am haha! Hope you enjoy!!

Minho tugged uncomfortably at his collar, sweat prickling his torso.

He was dressed in the best clothes he had, hauled out of his bags and then frantically straightened by none other than Newt; he was thankful his coat hid most of the wrinkles. He anxiously flipped his bowler hat over in his hands, the accessory courtesy of Winston - who had walked into their shared room to find Newt desperately trying to make Minho look thousands of pounds richer than he actually was.

_“But it’s not just the clothes,” Newt told him sternly. “You gotta act like you own a bloody gold mine or some klunk -”_

_His face breaking into a grin, Winston tossed Minho the hat. “It belonged to my old man. Used every penny because he wanted me to look like a respectable man. Use it and don’t get caught up there,” he added with a wink._

After traipsing up the back staircases, hopelessly lost and desperately trying not to scratch at his clothes, he had been directed by a passing crewman to the first class lounge, having been told that it was where he could borrow books for his leisure.

“Because they’re too snobbish to call it a library,” he muttered under his breath.

It appeared the lounge assumed much the same purpose as their own steerage common area; it was where the upper class socialised, relaxed and enjoyed refreshments in their typical opulent surroundings.

A woman departed the room, her blond hair piled atop her hair. No, he was looking for a brunette, he remembered.

Minho nodded politely. “Milady.”

The woman passing him gave a coy smile. “Excuse me,” she said, continuing down the corridor. Minho exhaled, looking about anxiously.

 _Act like you belong,_ Newt’s voice echoed in his ears. _Stand tall. Put one hand behind your back; it helps, trust me. And I know it’ll be hard, but act like you’ve seen it all before._

He quickly adjusted his position. He made a show of looking bored, as he had been instructed. _Shuck, the upper class klunk is hard work,_ he groaned internally. _How the hell did Newt do it all night? No wonder Tomboy’s losing his marbles -_

He jolted to attention at the sight of a young woman about his age sweeping down the hallway towards him, brushing her braided hair over her shoulder.

It was the same girl Newt had drawn him a frantic sketch of. The likeness was uncanny; not for the first time, he was amazed by Newt’s skill with a pencil.

Minho smiled winningly as she approached. “Why, if it isn’t the wondrous Miss Agnes,” he said, bowing before her.

Teresa’s brow creased, a polite but confused smile gracing her features. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 _Imagine you’re speaking poetry or something,_ Newt had said. _You know how you sound when you’re being dramatic? Do that, but with less sarcasm._

Minho swallowed. “My friend Newton said I should make your acquaintance; he mentioned you would be passing this way today.”

Teresa’s eyes widened. Minho winced, but it seemed to be the answer she needed; her smile suddenly became a touch warmer. “Your company would be most welcome,” she said. “Come with me.”

Nodding, Minho followed her into the lounge and almost had to force his jaw shut, his mouth threatening to fall open.

He had never seen a room like it in all his life.

The space was decorated with intricate wooden panelling, stretching upwards to meet a ceiling that was twice as tall as he was. Plush green and gold chairs surrounded groups of tables, and on the other side of the room was a carved, grey marble fireplace.

 _Marble!_ he thought in awe.

He wanted to lick it.

Statues adorned the mantle - “Artemis of Versailles,” Teresa informed him, noticing him staring at one - and soft bronze sconces sat between mirrors laid into the walls.

Minho sighed. He longed to explore the rest of first class, but Newt had ordered him to steer clear. _“If those Grievers were watching us at the party, I don’t know who they might recognise. Even sending you now is a bit of a risk -”_

_“Come on, that’s a bit overkill -”_

_“I don’t - trust - Janson.”_

They breezed past the elegant mahogany bookcase, barely giving it a moment’s glance. Minho was well aware of the predominantly female presence at this hour, the nearby ladies sipping tea as they chattered; he assumed the majority of the men would be in later, or would be in the smoking room.

 _Of course they have a room for everything,_ he thought, inwardly rolling his eyes. _More money than sense -_

“What was your name again, kind sir?” Teresa asked. “I do apologise.”

Minho winced, knowing how decidedly third class he sounded. “Minho.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I’m assuming you’re the infamous Min-Min?”

“The one and only.”

Teresa laughed lightly. Reaching the far side of the room, she pulled him to a stop by the windows, the two of them partially concealed behind an intricate wooden pillar. She grabbed his wrist; Minho was taken aback by the sudden ferociousness in her eyes.

“What did Newt say?” Teresa hissed. “Actually, _where_ is he? Tom has been acting strange all day, but I’ve been unable to get him alone long enough to ask.” She paused. “You know about his father? The Grievers?”

Minho grimaced. It appeared Newt hadn’t been exaggerating. “Unfortunately.”

“Thomas even volunteered to spend this afternoon with his father and Mr Andrews, and I was _certain_ he had been planning to spend that time with Newt -”

Glancing about, Minho cleared his throat. “Look, Miss Agnes -”

“Teresa,” she said firmly. “Call me Teresa.”

“Teresa,” Minho repeated. “Look, something happened between our party last night and your church service this morning. I’m gonna trust that Newtie’s gonna sort it out, but he needs you to keep an eye on Tomboy, maybe steer this Janson guy and his Grievers away so he can talk to him.”

Teresa peered at him for the longest moment, suddenly looking worried. “Is it ... anything I should be overly concerned about? Anything I can help with?”

All at once, Minho knew he had misjudged Thomas’s fiancé. He paused, glancing out the towering bay windows. The ocean was a stunning blue, the early afternoon sun shining down on the ship. “Not if Newt gets to Thomas in time. Whatever that means.” He raised his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Her expression steeling, Teresa nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Minho exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Teresa,” he said genuinely. “I -”

He suddenly caught sight of one of the attendants eyeing him, speaking in an undertone to another crew member. He cleared his throat again. “Uh, would it be rude to ask milady for an escort back to my humble quarters? I fear I might get lost again.”

Her brow creasing, Teresa glanced about, her eyes landing on the crewmen and seeming to realise he was out of time. She smiled, taking his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I really hope you had as much fun reading this scene as I did writing it!!
> 
> Now I know that it’s a general writing rule not to explain a plan if it goes ... well, according to plan XD HOWEVER!!! I couldn’t resist writing Minho trying his best to be a first class gent, and it gave me the chance to explore the first class lounge!! Which is one of my other FAVOURITE places on the ship.
> 
> So, yes, this room served the purposes Minho mentioned above. Second Class had an official library that did much the same, but they called it a lounge in First Class for ego reasons haha. Both men and women were welcome in the space but it was largely dominated by females. It was also a popular spot for the orchestra to perform. The books stored in the case were classics etc, and were to be swapped out with each voyage to keep the selection fresh.
> 
> Also side note. There is NOTHING going on between Minho and Teresa, and there are no plans to. They are merely going to be friends and allies, as mentioned in the title!!
> 
> It also gave me the chance to explore Teresa’s thoughts, and how she sees the situation. For me, it feels as if she’s just trying to hold everything together “until they get married” and is hoping the pressure from Janson etc may ease off Thomas’s shoulders and he’ll be able to be more independent. Of course, the thing with Newt has thrown a spanner in the works in the best way possible, but she’s still worried about Thomas.
> 
> I love Minho. He’s my favourite and I adore writing him! He’s a lot of fun and he’s got a lot of heart, and I’m very much enjoying switching between the two sides of him.
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic, I would love to know your thoughts! :D <3 thank you again, have an amazing day!!


	17. Walking a Tightrope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest Unsinkable chapter so far!! All I can say is - sOMEONE GET THE TISSUES READY *drops and flees*

“Thomas!”

He turned away from the instruments of Titanic’s bridge. “Teresa?” Thomas asked, confused. “I thought you were going to the lounge?”

“I changed my mind,” Teresa said with a wave of her hand, breezing across the deck towards them with her coat on. “I would rather see the ship.”

He tried to hide his relief at her reappearance. The thought of an entire afternoon spent with his father filled him with dread. He smiled. “I’m glad to have your company,” he said earnestly.

He quickly pressed a kiss to her hand, feeling Janson’s eyes on him.

“Miss Agnes,” Thomas Andrews greeted warmly, his expression slightly regretful. “We’re just finishing our tour of the bridge.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Teresa said truthfully with a gracious smile at Captain Smith. “I’m sure Titanic is your pride and joy.”

Chuckling, Smith opened his mouth to respond when a young man hastened into the room, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. “Excuse me, sir,” he panted. “Another ice warning. This one’s from the Noordam.”

“Thank you, Sparks,” Captain Smith said, giving the slip of paper a cursory glance.

The silence stretched. “Is that anything to be concerned about?” Thomas asked. He could almost feel Janson’s eye roll.

Smith shook his head. “Ice warnings are quite normal for this time of year. In fact, we’re speeding up,” he informed them. “I just ordered the last boilers lit.”

“At this rate, we’ll be in New York by Tuesday night,” Mr Andrews laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a lovely surprise for everyone?”

Thomas felt the cold weight of dread settle in his stomach, his face turning a shade paler. Teresa gripped his hand tighter.

They filed out onto the deck, continuing their stroll as Mr Andrews told them stories of Titanic’s build. As interesting as it was, Thomas found his attention wandering as he trailed behind with Teresa, his thoughts helplessly drifting back to Newt, his frustration rising.

“We have a total of twenty lifeboats,” Mr Andrews was telling Janson, who nodded studiously. “These new davits also have the potential to hold another row of boats -”

Thomas started. “Twenty?” he repeated.

“To be exact,” Andrews said. “Fourteen lining the decks which can take about sixty-five people, two emergency rafts, and another four collapsibles on the roofs of the officers’ quarters with a capacity of roughly forty-seven each.”

The math didn’t add up. Thomas frowned. “Surely that isn’t enough for all the passengers onboard?”

“About half,” Andrews admitted. “I was overruled; it was thought the deck would look too cluttered otherwise.”

“Comfort over safety,” Teresa mused. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Janson tutted impatiently. “It’s not as if this ship is going to sink,” he commented, tapping one of the lifeboats with his cane. “Waste of deck space, in my opinion.”

With another quick squeeze of Thomas’s hand, Teresa hastened on ahead. “Mr Andrews, I have a question.”

Janson chuckled. “I’m sure Teresa would be your apprentice if she could.”

“The world is ever-changing,” Mr Andrews replied with a courteous smile, the three of them continuing down the promenade. “Titanic herself is a prime example. Now, Miss Agnes -”

A hand clamped around Thomas’s arm. He gasped. “Hey -!”

“Shh!” Newt hissed, tugging him towards a side door. “In here!”

With one last desperate glance at his company, Thomas let Newt drag him through the doorway and into the gymnasium. The space was mercifully empty.

“Newt, this is impossible,” Thomas said. “I can’t see you, alright?”

“Thomas, I need to talk to you,” Newt started.

“My father -”

“You’ve got a minute, I promise. We -”

The anger and misery churning inside Thomas suddenly boiled over. “Just leave me alone,” he barked.

Newt reeled back, hurt flashing across his face. His mouth opened and closed silently a few times. “Thomas?” he finally whispered.

It tore at Thomas’s heart. He forced himself to set his shoulders back. “I’m engaged, Newt. I’m marrying Teresa, and that’s all there is to it.”

The silence stretched.

“Is that what you really want?” Newt asked quietly.

“Yes,” Thomas snapped.

But it was a lie, and they both knew it.

Newt watched him carefully. “Your father threatened you, didn’t he?”

Thomas jerked his head. “No, he made me see sense,” he bit out. “It was a moment of weakness on my part -”

“That’s your father talking,” Newt said sharply.

“Is it?”

“I know _you_ , Tommy -”

The nickname tugged painfully at his heartstrings, shattering something in his chest. He closed his eyes. “Whatever this is, it can’t last. It _won’t_ last.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m doomed either way.”

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t love Teresa in the way that was expected of him; not in the way the world wanted him to. And _Newt_ ...

Newt stepped closer. “No, Tommy. No,” he said softly.

“Yes, I am, and if you had any sense you would forget this whole thing.”

“I ... I _can’t_.”

Thomas’s frustration surged again. “When you look at me, what do you even _see_ , Newt?” he growled, his voice wavering dangerously. “Why don’t you know when to give up?”

There was a long pause.

Newt swallowed thickly. “I guess I can’t stop thinking about the first time I met you, just a scared kid trapped in a life he didn’t want,” he began. His expression hardened. “You think marrying Teresa will solve everything? Janson will drag you along to every board meeting and company function; he is going to force every single piece of personality you have into a box that _he will lock away_ until you are nothing but a mirror image of himself, and it will stay that way for the rest of your miserable life.”

Sighing, Thomas bowed his head. He knew Newt was right.

Newt took a cautious step closer. “I think of all the things I’ve done in my life so far, all the adventures I’ve had that eventually led me to _you_.” He shook his head, his eyes shining. “If I could do it all over again, I would, and I wouldn’t change a thing. And my hope for you is when you’re looking back years from now, you’ll be able to say the same thing.”

_Heavens above, how much he wanted to._

“Seeing you laughing and dancing last night, you were open and unguarded and _beautiful_. So, _so_ beautiful.” Newt exhaled heavily, his voice heartbreakingly soft. “Sooner or later that fire I love about you, Thomas, the part of you that wants to see the world and steal kisses when no one’s watching ... that fire is gonna burn out,” he whispered. “You’re brave and you’re strong and you’re _kind_ , Thomas. You _deserve_ to be happy.”

_The same words Teresa had uttered to him._ Only this time so much harder to believe.

“Do I?” Thomas asked miserably. No matter what he did, no matter what choice he made, someone, somewhere, was always going to get hurt. He almost couldn’t bear the weight on his conscience. “Do I really?”

Newt’s expression turned unexpectedly fierce. He lunged forward, clamping his hands on either side of Thomas’s face, the two of them barely inches apart. “You _can’t_ give up,” he whispered fervently. “I won’t let you.”

It took all of Thomas’s willpower not to close the distance between them. He couldn’t concentrate, his stomach churning sickeningly.

_“Is this a game to you, Thomas? You have a reputation to uphold ... You will not see that Isaacs boy again ... Happiness has nothing to do with it ... You’ll be under watch from now until we disembark ...”_

Nausea surged through him. Thomas’s vision began to fog, his heart thrashing within his ribcage, his head spinning. Barely aware of his movements, he shoved Newt away. “I can’t see you again,” he choked out. “I’m sorry.”

Tears blinding him, he stumbled out of the gymnasium, frantically wiping his eyes as a wave of panic crashed over him. He clutched at the edges of a lifeboat, dragging himself upright.

_“Tom? Tom!”_ a voice echoed hollowly in his ears.

_“He’s not well.”_ Janson? _“Get him back to the stateroom.”_

_“Shall I send for the ship’s doctor?”_ Mr Andrews?

_“No need. I’m sure a lie down will settle whatever’s ailing him.”_

_“Thomas!”_ A pair of hands clamped around his arms, grounding him. His vision cleared enough for him to identify the face floating before him. _Teresa_. “Tom, look at me, look at me! It’s okay, shh -”

_No, it wasn’t okay. It would_ never _be okay._

No words would ever be enough comfort for the precious thing he knew he had just thrown away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (LONG NOTE AHEAD!) Thank you so much for reading, and I am so so sorry.
> 
> Please know that this chapter absolutely broke my heart to write. This is Thomas reaching breaking point, and unfortunately Newt is the one he takes it out on - in an interesting reversal of the Death Cure roles! I’ll say again, remember Thomas has been manipulated by his father for so long that it’s going to be really hard for him to break out of that. Poor Tommy has had a lot to process in the last few hours, especially after the previous night when he suddenly realised where his life was heading and what he might actually want.
> 
> I apologise this chapter was delayed a week, I had a lot of stuff going on, and was struggling a little. I waited a week and tried again, and with much better results <3 Strangely though, this has also ended up becoming one of my favourite chapters so far. Haha, how many Death Cure (and Scorch Trials) quotes did you spot in this one?!  
> The title is based on a song from The Greatest Showman, one of my favourites and something I listened to a lot writing this chapter. I HIGHLY recommend it, it’s gorgeous.
> 
> *TRUMPETS* HISTORY TIME!! So the ice warning was relayed from the SS Noordam at 11:40am on 14th April 1912 ... exactly twelve hours before the ship hit the iceberg. I always found that a really interesting little fact. Plus, that now gives us a little timeline!! It’s just about noon in this scene.
> 
> I’m so happy to add some more Thomas Andrews in! In all the articles and personal accounts I’ve read about him, he seemed like such a genuine, kind man. He truly cared about the ship, the workers, and the passengers. One of my favourite things (mentioned in the Ghosts of the Abyss documentary) is the little drinking fountain Mr Andrews installed at the top of the staircase that wound all the way down to the heart of the ship; just that little kindness for the boiler room (etc) workers, that’s what he was about.
> 
> Mr Andrews specifically installed those new davits to hold another row of lifeboats. Titanic actually had MORE than the number of lifeboats required at the time - which was 16 for a vessel over 10,000 tons at the time of her voyage. But especially after a series of events with the RMS Olympic, when a giant hole was punctured in her hull yet was still able to limp back to port, it was suddenly believed that these ships were unsinkable - and so the idea of putting more lifeboats on Titanic was shoved aside. It was yet another domino falling.
> 
> Even though the setting had more than a few similarities to the 1997 movie, I hope you liked this chapter in some way. I’m really proud of how I changed things to fit Newt and Thomas’s story ... but maybe that’s just me. I hope it wasn’t disappointing for you.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts down in the comments! (but PLEASE be kind ... tpwk <3) (happier newtmas times ARE COMING, I promise!!). Thank you again, hope you have a good day! <3


	18. Wisdom Beyond Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really adore this one :”D <3 happy reading!!

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

It was as if the clock in his stateroom was taunting him. Lying atop his bed, Thomas stared at the ceiling, his heart unbearably heavy. A numbness had seeped into his body, consuming him. Time drifted around him, the hours passing like minutes, like days.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Tom?” a voice called.

He didn’t bother to respond; he could not find an ounce of energy within his being to even speak.

The door creaked open. A moment later, the latch clicked again and Teresa climbed onto the bed, smoothing out her dress as she lay down beside him, her shoulder against his.

The silence stretched.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

“I met a charming stranger on my way to the lounge this morning,” Teresa said. “Young, Asian, snarky.”

Thomas closed his eyes. “Minho,” he sighed.

“Hmm. He asked if I could provide a distraction of sorts so Newt could talk to you.”

Thomas glanced at her. “That’s why you joined us on the tour.”

“We agreed it would be best; I couldn’t let you go alone.” Teresa gracefully propped herself up on one elbow, gazing down at him. “Besides, Mr Andrews is quite the gentleman.”

“He has a wife,” Thomas pointed out.

“I am allowed to browse the catalogue.”

Any humour Thomas felt rapidly vanished as his thoughts turned to the future at her words, at the courting opportunities they had both had and lost due to their own betrothal.

His hands began to shake. He clenched them against his stomach to quell the tremors.

Her eyes widening, Teresa reached out and gripped his fingers tightly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Tom ... whatever’s the matter? Did something happen last night?”

Thomas shook his head, suddenly gasping for air. “No - _yes_ \- I just -”

“Breathe, Tom,” Teresa soothed.

He exhaled shakily. “It was _magical_ , Tess,” he whispered. “We were dancing all night, and we walked up on deck, and we - and we _kissed_ -”

Teresa gasped, her eyes suddenly alight. “Thomas, that’s wonderful!” Her smile faltered as Thomas’s expression tightened with pain. “Is it not?”

Thomas shook his head. “Father threatened me this morning. He found out about the party and that Newt is from steerage. He forbade me to see him, among other punishments.”

There was a long pause. “ _Shit_ ,” Teresa hissed.

Thomas stared in shock. He could count on one hand the number of times he had heard Teresa swear.

“ _Did_ Newt come and talk to you?” Teresa asked quietly. “I saw you slip away from the tour.”

Thomas nodded. His bottom lip trembled, and he began to cry. “I broke his heart, Tess,” he sobbed. “I told him this could never work, and I told him to leave me alone.” He crushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “And then I - I walked out.”

He didn’t even have the strength to repeat the words Newt had spoken from his very soul.

“Oh, Tom,” Teresa whispered, wrapping her arms around him.

Thomas clung to her, crying into her shoulder, giving in to the emotions he was drowning in. He could hardly bear the weight of the devastation in his heart, his thoughts tearing him to shreds from the inside out; mourning the loss of a friendship, of something _more_ , and the future that went with it - one he never could have had in the first place. He had been utterly foolish to believe in it from the start.

“Do you want this?”

Thomas sniffled, pulling back. “Huh?”

“Do you want this?” Teresa repeated, staring down at him fiercely. “If there were no social barriers, no arranged marriages, _nothing_ to stand in your way, would you take that future with Newt? _Would you_ , Thomas?”

Thomas already knew the answer; had _always_ known it.

“In a heartbeat.” He swallowed thickly. “I think I love him, Teresa. Even though I’ve only known him a few days, and it doesn’t make sense.”

Teresa shifted, moving her hands to tenderly brush the tears from his cheeks. “That’s the thing about love,” she whispered, her eyes shining with a wisdom far beyond her years. “It rarely does.”

She rolled off the bed, leaping to her feet. “You need to go find him.”

Thomas blinked up at her. “Now?”

“Yes, right now.” She grabbed his coat, pulling it over Thomas’s shoulders as he slowly sat up. “If you don’t make dinner, I’ll explain your absence. Say you’re still unwell or something of the like.”

Thomas shook his head. “He’ll never take me back,” he said, his voice breaking. “I threw it all - I threw _him_ away -”

“Nonsense. You didn’t see the way he looked at you, Tom,” Teresa said, her voice unexpectedly soft. “Like you held the moon and all the stars with it.”

Guilt continued to churn Thomas’s stomach, but for a different reason. He snatched her wrist. “I can’t do this to you, Teresa,” he began. “You don’t deserve this.”

“And neither do you.” Teresa looked at him sternly. “I won’t have you spending the rest of your life asking yourself _what if?_ Now _go_ before I kick your miserable rich backside out the door.”

“That’s not very ladylike,” Thomas retorted, clambering to his feet and pulling his coat on properly.

“I’ll show you ladylike -”

His hand on the doorknob, Thomas turned and pulled Teresa into a fierce embrace, kissing her on the cheek. “ _Thank_ you -”

Teresa laughed against him. “Save it for Newt and _go_ -”

“I owe you one.”

“I’ll add it to the tally.”

o-o-o-o-o

“Well, look who finally decided to show his face,” Minho said, glancing up from a game of cards. “You got a lot of nerve showing up here, Greenie -”

“Where’s Newt?” Thomas cut him off. His chest heaving, he ran a hand through his hair, glancing about the steerage common area. “I’ve been looking everywhere but I can’t find him.”

Sitting back in his chair, Minho stared at him for the longest time, as if his dark eyes were searching Thomas’s soul. For what, he didn’t know; perhaps a reason to trust him with his best friend’s heart.

Thomas knew he deserved the suspicion in every way possible.

“I made a terrible mistake,” he said desperately. “And I need to fix it. I was an idiot - a fool in every sense of the word, and what I did was unforgivable.” He shook his head. “I - I have to set things right. Newt doesn’t deserve anything less.”

It seemed to be the words Minho wanted to hear. “Try looking out on deck,” he finally advised. “He likes to brood alone.”

Thomas’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you,” he gasped, already stumbling back towards the staircase. “Thank you!”

“Go get your man back, Tomboy!” Minho suddenly hollered after him.

Choking out a laugh, Thomas ran faster than he ever had before, his heart thrashing in his chest, its beats aligned with the thunder of his footsteps. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump. New-ton. New-ton._

_Newt_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading!! Goodness, we’re flying through the chapters now. It’s crazy!!
> 
> This is absolutely on of my favourite chapters so far (haha, I KNOW I say that every time) because soft platonic!thomesa :”D I hope you enjoyed it too!! Teresa’s words came so easily and they’re just … really special to me. It’s such a strange, beautiful feeling when a scene comes together like this, as if you’re in the room and can hear the characters talking - especially in a quieter scene such as this, a nice gentle moment amidst the chaos Thomas is experiencing.
> 
> The little Minho scene at the end was an unexpected yet absolutely welcome addition!! He literally barged his way into my outline and I 100% let him haha. He’s really rooting for them as much as Teresa as. I’ve kept to Thomas’s POV in this one because Newt clearly knows where he stands in this situation, but Thomas has a lot of internalised things he has to work through - and needs someone like Teresa to help sweep the mess away so he can see everything clearly.
> 
> It’s strange not having any history notes for this one, haha! It’s all familiar locations in this one. However there’s some extra scenes coming up with new places and adventures which I’m super excited to share!!
> 
> I hope this was a satisfying read for you!! As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or kudos if you’re enjoying this fic, I would love to know your thoughts! :D <3 thank you again, have an amazing day!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :D <3


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